Magic That Binds
by XinconceivableX
Summary: Everyone has a destiny, not just the Boy-Who-Lived and Hermione was about to discover hers. -looong fic with slow burn SS/HG, with NT/RL, and other minor pairings.
1. Prologue: Strange Beginnings

**(Disclaimer: The characters and world that you find familiar belong to JK Rowling. I do not own them and make absolutely no money off of them. Anything you don't recognize is mine-unless specified later).**

**Summary: Everyone has a destiny, not just the Boy-Who-Lived, and Hermione was about to discover her own. Looooooong fic, so please be prepared for a lengthy read.****This is primarily a SS/HG fic (so please if you don't like, then go elsewhere) with a very slow burn. So it'll be a while before the two get there. Other pairings include NT/RL and others that will be revealed later. Starts in trio's 6th year but leaves canon after 5th year. **

**Oh and its rated M for a reason!**

**Hope you enjoy! and don't forget to review!**

* * *

_Prologue_

"First years o'er 'ere!"

A burly man, dressed in brown furs that blended seamlessly with his frizzy beard and hair stepped forward. Hermione gasped, her eyes traveling up the large man in front of her. He was HUGE—no he was a giant. He had to be. She had read about giants in _Magical Creatures and Beings_, and knew that they existed in the Wizarding World, living in colonies in isolated areas, one of which was just to the North of the castle. Perhaps that's where this man was from, he certainly had the look of a giant. There was no doubt in her mind about that. She wondered what the giant was doing in Hogwarts. _Hogwarts: A History _hadn't mentioned any alliances that the school made with the Giant Clan.

"What is that man?" A nervous fellow to her left said.

Hermione raised her head, happy that an opportunity to show her magical knowledge was already presenting itself. "He's a giant, of course."

"A giant? Wow! Why'd ya think he's here?" The boy looked to her for the answer.

Hermione flushed slightly. She didn't actually know herself how or why he was here. "Oh, well...he must be a friend of the Headmaster," she guessed. "Professor Dumbledore is supposed to be a very powerful man, you know," she finished a little more confidently.

Her answer appeased the boy, who nodded and turned back to his friend. Inwardly, Hermione released a sigh of relief and vowed to look further into Giant culture later on.

"Come on, come on! Gotta get yer to the boats!" The giant said.

Hermione watched as the boy, Harry Potter, stepped forward to greet the giant.

"Hullo, Hagrid!" he cried, smiling and not the least bit intimidated by the larger man.

"Hiya, 'Arry! Had a good trip on the train?"

"It was brilliant!"

Harry's easy acceptance of the large stranger went a long way to easing the nerves of the other kids, who finally took the first hesitant steps forward.

"Well, we best be off!" Hagrid beamed, ushering them towards the lake where a group of wooden row boats were waiting for them. A couple of students took the initiative, stepping into the boat. Once the two girls were seated, the boat lurched forward and began drifting forward without any oars, or wind, as if by—

"Magic," Hermione breathed. The boats were enchanted to move on their own. Amazing!

"Is this safe?" Neville asked her, sidling up to her side.

"Of course, it's an enchantment. I've read in _Hogwarts: A History_ that first years always arrive in boats, but I didn't know that they would be pulled by magic."

"Wow!" Neville looked at the boats with new eyes. "Do you want to share a boat?"

"Sure."

The two stepped into an open boat and gasped when it pushed forward. Floating around them, other first years gasped in awe and wonder.

"Look!" one of them shouted, pointing towards the fanciful castle they were fast approaching.

"It's Hogwarts!"

"It's huge!"

"Look! There's a Quidditch pitch over there!"

"Awesome! When's the first game!"

"We have to start the school year first, dummy."

Hermione ignored the chattering comments coming from the others. When her boat came to a stop on the shore, she eagerly got out. As a group, they all rushed forward, clambering up the ancient stone steps and through the open doors to the main hall.

She looked around, her eyes consuming every sight. The candelabras, the sconces, the metal soldiers, the stone figures and pictures—that actually moved!

This was it. She had finally arrived at Hogwarts. She was finally going to be a proper witch.

* * *

In the bowels of the castle, a dark leather book, wrapped in thick metal chains breathed to life. A shudder of pleasure racked though its cursed pages as it felt the presence of new blood in the castle, blood that it had been waiting for. It tried to reach out with its magic, just to get a taste for the sweet soul that the blood belonged to, but the heavy chains surrounding it quickly tightened their bindings.

It's magic was snuffed out under the chains' pressure and it was forced to calm down once more. The foreign power keeping it locked up, suffocated it and though angry, it stopped trying to reach out. It was too weak to fight its chains for now, but it would wait, and it would watch and when it regenerated enough magic...

Then it would finally make its move.

* * *

**A/N: Alright and that's the new Prologue! The first dream is still definitely apart of it. It's just been shifted to the first chapter. And no, I didn't use the real dialogue between Harry and Hagrid. I'm using my license as a fanfic writer to go off the beaten path here. Hope you like the new prologue!**

**And as always, Review~**


	2. Weird Dreams and Tense Classes

**(Disclaimer: The characters and world that you find familiar belong to JK Rowling. I do not own them and make absolutely no money off of them. Anything you don't recognize is mine-unless specified later).**

**Hopefully the corrections have been made!**

**Thanks to my betas, McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe**

* * *

Chapter 1

_She looked down at the multitude of papers strewn around her library. For hours she had toiled away in this room, working until her body ached, and now it would all be reduced to nothing, and it was all because of HIM. Her hands clenched in rage as she waved her hand, magically gathering all of her hard work and transferring it into the metal box by her feet. Before she could change her mind, she snapped her fingers setting it all on fire. Years' worth of research and hard work, all reduced to nothing but ash._

_Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she stood there, smoke curling around her body. "He shall pay for this," she vowed, and she meant it. She would die carrying out that promise._

_Wiping her face, she gathered her small bag, filled with only a few coins and clothes, and headed out of her house. Without a backward glance, she stepped into the dark carriage waiting for her on the road. _

"_It is right to leave," an old voice whispered from the seat across from her. Tears swelled in her eyes again as she took in the kind face of her old friend. He had been serving her family for so long, taking care of her even as a child, always by her side. He was her father and her mother, all the family she had ever needed and he always had been. _

_His weathered features, wrinkled and worn with age, gentled as he looked upon her with compassion. _

"_Ben…perhaps he…" she trailed off, unsure of how to finish that question. There were so many questions now and so many uncertainties that it was hard to track them all. _

"_No…" Ben replied, looking out the window at some distant sight. "Do not occupy yourself with the possibilities. We shall give ourselves entirely to the plan and pray to the gods that we prevail. There is little else we can do."_

_She could not answer him, so she remained silent, looking out her own window. Ben was right. She knew this, but it didn't make the worry lessen, and it certainly didn't cool her anger. _

"_Rest, child, I shall wake you when we come upon the manor," Ben suggested, patting her clasped hands fondly. Nodding her head, she rested against the cushioned wall and allowed the rocking motion of the carriage to lull her to sleep. _

_It was a loud THUMP that woke her hours later. The carriage jerked to a stop, as she sat up, taking in her surroundings with wild eyes. "Ben, what─" she began to ask, but her friend's hand covered her mouth, silencing her. He motioned for her to stay quiet as he reached into his pocket, pulled out his wand and carefully opened the carriage door to check outside. _

_Within seconds, Ben reappeared to open her door. His old eyes sharpened, scanning the area for trouble. His wand was poised in a fighter's stance reminiscent of his days as a champion dueler. _

_Warily looking around, she finally caught sight of their driver. Her hand closed over her mouth to stifle a choked gag at the sight. His lifeless body was slumped over in his seat, and although she could not see any blood, she knew without a doubt that he was dead─she doubted any man could live without a head. The horses that had been pulling their carriage had shared a gruesomely similar fate. _

"_Dear Merlin," she whimpered, clutching Ben's coat to steady herself. She just knew that somehow, HE had found them already. She knew of no one else who could commit such a crime. What was a death or two to a soulless person like him? _

_Ben grasped her hands and nodded towards the trees, "The manor lies beyond the ridge. Take the emergency broom and flee." He grabbed the broom from under the carriage and handed it to her. She stepped away, eyeing the broom warily. _

"_But surely the magic will tell him where I am─"_

_Ben shook his head. "It is too late for that now. He is already upon us. You must flee. Now!" He pushed the broom into her hands and steered her away. _

_She quickly mounted the broom, tucking her skirts out of the way. She looked back, holding out her hand. "Come, Ben! Get on!" _

"_Child…" his soft voice, filled with acceptance, crushed her heart. His calloused hand cupped her cheek as his thumb brushed away her tears. _

"_Please…Ben," she choked out, grasping at his hand desperately. _

_Above them, a black cloud gathered menacingly. The gentle winds from only moments before grew vicious, whipping at their skin. Ben broke away from her to look at the coming darkness with wide eyes. _

"_Leave! I shall hold him back," he shouted, raising his wand. _

"_Ben, I beg of you! There is time─ come with me!" she called back, hovering in the air. _

"_Ah, my dear…it is not possible, but you know it already. You are the concern, not an old man that has experienced his fair share of life. Allow me to measure my last breaths as I see fit. Allow me to protect those I love the most." His sad dark eyes pulled at her heart as he pushed at the back of her broom, sending her into the air. _

_She rose, her tears falling freely as she flew away. She knew Ben was right: if HE got into her mind, it would all be over and countless lives would be lost. Stopping that vile man, that was the only important thing now, and Ben…she would honor his sacrifice, no matter how much it tore her apart to do it. _

_Refusing to look back, even as she heard Ben's muffled scream behind her, she pressed against her broom to move faster. She could see Lord Trimble's manor now. It was so close. All she had to do was make it past the wards, and she would finally be free. _

_Darkness soundly fell around her. Her broom jerked to a stop under her as the cloud closed in, wrapping itself around her arms, legs and neck. "No!" she screamed straining against the choking hold, desperately reaching towards the quickly disappearing view of the manor. _

_The grip around her neck tightened cutting off her oxygen. Her head began to swim as the world spun around her. Just as her consciousness slipped away from her, she heard HIS voice in her ear. _

"_My dear daughter, it is so good to see you again."_

Hermione stared at the ceiling of her four-poster bed as the last shadows of that strange woman's desperate face were swept away with the first rays of dawn. Her head was pounding, as it usually did after one of her increasingly frequent, weird dreams plagued her sleep. They seemed to be getting more and more vivid with each night.

Perhaps they were her mind's way of telling her that she was stressed out or overworked.

"Could be," she whispered, pulling at the seams on her pillow case. And yet...she couldn't shake the feeling that they were so much more.

She got up from her bed, knowing she wouldn't be going back to sleep now. She grabbed her robe and moved to the bathroom to prepare for what she knew would be long day.

* * *

She had been right.

Her day had been terrible. Not only had she nearly fallen asleep in TWO of her classes, but by the time lunch had come around, she was ready to pass out on the nearest flat surface. She still didn't know how she had avoided falling into the bowl of peas.

By some fluke, or maybe it was divine intervention, she had made it through Herbology and now there was only Potions to finish before she could call it a day and bury herself under her bed covers. She couldn't wait.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Harry asked tentatively, as he walked beside her down to the dungeons.

"I'm good, I'm good," she answered dismissively. _Just really looking forward to bed._

Ron came running up behind them, a vial of clear liquid held triumphantly above his head. "I've got it!" He called to them, struggling for breath. He immediately handed over the potion to Hermione who eagerly took it, popped the lid and gulped down the contents. A pleasant jolt of energy whipped through her, chasing away the sleep in her eyes.

"You're lucky that Madame Pomfrey didn't catch on that the Pepper Up was for you," Ron told her, taking the empty vial back and shoving it in his pocket. "She'd have a cow if she knew you were taking more of it."

Hermione waved away his concern. "I'll be fine. It's not like I've had that much. Just a small bottle here and there."

"It's definitively been more than that. You're going to run yourself ragged with the way you're going," Harry said, concerned. "How much sleep did you get last night anyway?"

Hermione shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "I got enough. Four hours or so."

"Again?" Harry looked around the hall before leaning in to whisper, "Is it the nightmares?"

She squirmed under her friends' gaze, the thought of bringing up her dream this morning making her uncomfortable. She didn't know why, she had already told them about the others like it, but this one felt different. It felt private, too real to share with anyone else.

"No," she lied. "I was up studying last night for my Charms project."

That was partially true at least. She had stayed up a little later than usual, working on her Spell work for her project. It wasn't big, just a little extra work that the smaller professor had given her to prepare her for her apprenticeship with him. There just weren't enough hours in the day to get her regular work load done and her extracurricular work done, but luckily she had her Time-Turner back. A little twist here and there and she was all set. It left her a little tired, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. Or at least, it hadn't been before she started having those dreams.

"Mione, Flitwick's not about to give your apprenticeship away just because you want to get some sleep. Besides, it's not 'til after you graduate. What's the rush?" Ron said, exasperated.

"The rush is that I only have until next fall. Professor Flitwick wants to do a 'pre-apprenticeship' to ease me into the real thing. He does it with all the candidates to see who can handle the workload and who can't."

"Oh come on, Flitwick adores you. There isn't anyone else he wants to be his apprentice," Harry reminded her.

She understood what they were saying. Not to sound conceited, but she was well aware of the fact that she was Professor Flitwick's favorite student. The wizard had said as much to her often enough for her to be confident in that knowledge. She also knew that there really wasn't a rush. Technically, he had given her all summer to complete the assignment he had given her last week, so there was no need to get it done before next Friday. But she already had a Time-Turner again this year to handle all of her extra classes, so she figured; why not use it for her pre-apprenticeship work? If she got it done right away she was sure to impress Professor Flitwick and prove to him that she was the right choice.

She sighed, deflating a little. Harry and Ron were right, she was being a bit silly about all this. Even she knew that she could blow up the charms classroom tomorrow and the professor would still be happy to work with her. He had neglected to take on any apprentices since her fourth year after all, so that she would have a spot for the four year program available when she graduated.

"Alright. I'll take a break," she promised her friends.

The trio headed into the Potions class, the boys taking their seats towards the back and Hermione taking her seat beside Neville, who gave her a shaky smile in greeting. The boy was already trembling, his fingers winding around the frayed thread on the edge of his robe sleeves.

_Poor Neville,_ Hermione thought, shaking her head at her friend's behavior. If only he could calm down before class. She was sure that was the key to his improvement. After all, going into something already thinking about failure was the quickest way to ensure it.

The doors slammed open and the Professor glided in, his face set in a harsh frown. "Listen up!" His voice was like a whip, straightening his students' spines as they obeyed him instinctively. He jabbed his wand towards the chalkboard at the front of the room, and a potion assignment appeared in his familiar spiky writing. "I am in no mood for your usual nonsense. You will complete the potion on the board perfectly and turn it in at the end of the class with your homework."

His black eyes darted to the left, just in time to catch Seamus shooting a note towards Fay Dunbar, the pink shade of it revealing itself to be one of the Weasley Valentine Notes. The professor's wand flicked at it, stopping the paper mid air. Suddenly, it caught fire and disintegrated to ash.

"20 points from Gryffindors, and detention Mr. Finnagan. My class is not a brothel for you to test out your crude charms in." His black eyes roved slowly over the class, glittering with disgust. "And let that be a lesson for all of you. I am feeling very generous today and will happily give every single last one of you urchins detention for the rest of the year if you annoy me."

One of the Slytherins snickered in the back of the class, and Snape zeroed in on him, growling out. "If you think it is so amusing Mr. Rubbins, you may join Mr. Finnegan for detention tonight." Jacob was quick to lower his head meekly. A wave of uneasiness fell over the class. If Snape was dishing out detentions to the Slytherins too, it was going to be a long hour indeed.

Snape gestured to the board behind him. "Now get to work!" The class scrambled to do as he bid.

Aside from his snarky comments in the beginning of class, Professor Snape appeared mellow. Well, as mellow as Professor Snape could be. After the point deduction and detentions he retreated behind his desk where he graded papers and tentatively watched (glared) at his students while they worked. There was a moment when Hermione thought he would strangle Neville, when he, bless him, almost used sliced firefly wings instead of dragonfly wings. The result of which would have been catastrophic. Luckily, she was just able to stop his hand from releasing the wings before he blew the entire class to Hades.

Professor Snape for his part, only snapped his head up from his papers, barked out that Neville was "an incompetent waste of wizarding genes" and deducted twenty points from Gryffindor, before going back to his work. There was no yelling, no threats, and no detentions. To say the class was shocked was an understatement. Neville looked both relieved and scared, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It never did.

Slowly, work resumed in the classroom. Most of the students went back to ignoring their professor's odd behavior, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hermione, however, kept finding her eyes drifting back to his dark frame.

He sat in his chair hunched over, with his arms tucked in at his sides. She watched him reach across his desk to grab another folder and immediately stop his movements. His jaw clenched tightly as he took a deep breath then slowly stretched his arm forward. He grabbed his folder and brought his arm back before finally exhaling.

The choppiness of his movements was so subtle that each stiff action could be easily missed. Unless of course, you were staring like Hermione was. She continued to watch him as he slowly got up from his seat and made his way to his storeroom in the back of the class. She pushed her hair forward to block her face, so he couldn't see her. He seemed to pause just as he was opening the storeroom's door. One long arm came up to touch his right shoulder carefully and when he pulled back, there was a dark gleam on his fingers.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. _Is that blood? _

The shock lasted for only a second before she began scrutinizing her Professor's movements, questions bubbling to the surface of her mind, the most frequent one being; how did he get injured?

It only took a second for her to come to the answer. He was a spy, constantly going back into Voldemort's lair, and into danger. There was a possibility that he had gotten the injury from a Potions' accident in class, but really what were the chances of that? The man was a Master in his field and had some of the fastest reflexes of all the professors in the school. So, that only left one other horrifying option.

She shivered as her imagination ran away with her, conjuring up terrifying scenarios, in which he could have been hurt, fighting for them. For the longest time she had an issue reconciling her surly Potions Professor with the work he did for the Order, but there was proof of that work right in front of her, in the form of his blood. What more evidence did she need of his sacrifices?

Snape, wiped off his fingers and waved his wand at his back. Slinking his way back to his chair without his usual grace, he shrugged his robes back on.

_Why doesn't he go to Madam Pomfrey? _She was completely confused. He was clearly in pain, and injured, and yet he was just sitting behind his desk as if nothing was the matter. She bit her lip. She felt like she had to do something for him, but what?

He'd probably kill her, if she offered to heal him after class. She couldn't see him just stripping off his robes and baring his back to anyone, least of all his student. He would probably hex her all the way to the infirmary, if she did. Offering him a health potion would most likely be met with the same response.

Perhaps, instead, she could drop a hint to Professor Dumbledore. He would, no doubt, be interested in the well-being of his spy and employee. Right?

Satisfied that her with solution, now that she could help him, the young witch went back to her work. As usual, she found herself finished with her potion before anyone else in the class. So she poured a small sample in a vial and placed it on Snape's desk for grading later, then returned to her seat. She pulled out a book to read while she waited, trying to distract her thoughts from her professor. It wouldn't do to stare at him for too long. She didn't want him catching on to her after all.

In a matter of minutes, she was so deeply absorbed with her book that she didn't realize that the class had already finished, and the other students were already running out the door. A shout from the front of the class jolted her away from her book. Her head snapped up like a startled doe's, as she looked around the nearly empty classroom. Professor Snape was glaring down at her from his desk.

"Miss Granger!" he called again, "I said class is over. I have no desire to endure anymore of your insufferable presence than what is required. Remove yourself, so I can finally get some peace!"

"Yes, sir!" Hermione jumped up, grabbing her stuff and running out the door, before he could deduct any points.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, last time I change it-promise!**

**Up Next: How did Severus end up bleeding? And the next dream is waiting for Hermione...**


	3. Death Eater Problems and Broken Curses

**(Disclaimer: See beginning)**

**So here's the next chapter, this has been reworked as well and beta'd (thank you Emilia Wolfe and McGonagall's Bola). I hope that this flows better now. Your feedback would be very welcome. I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

* * *

**Last time:**

She continued to watch him as he slowly got up from his seat and made his way to his storeroom in the back of the class. She pushed her hair forward to block her face, so he wouldn't see her. He seemed to pause just as he was opening the storeroom's door. One long arm came up to touch his right shoulder carefully and when he pulled back, there was a dark gleam on his fingers.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. _Is that blood? _

* * *

Chapter 2

Severus watched Miss Granger's retreating form, and released a grateful breath. He'd thought she'd never leave. For a second, he was sure that she would try and stay after to talk to him about earlier. All throughout the lesson, he could practically see the questions bubbling in her mind, as she stared at him. Unfortunately, because of her blatant staring, he was also sure that she caught his small stumble from his storeroom, and knowing her quick mind (he reluctantly admitted that), was able to put two and two together.

He could almost see the recognition in her eyes when he got back to his seat, and he, once again, cursed Albus. It was completely unnecessary for the old man to confirm the terrible trio's suspicions, regarding what he did on behalf of the Order. What business was it of theirs? If anything, letting them know the truth about him and the Order, just made them liabilities. One only had to look at the fiasco they created at the ministry last year as evidence of this. On top of that, that same day, Potter had nearly blown his cover in that toad's office, with his "code talk", that was neither subtle nor clever. His only saving grace had been that Umbridge was an idiot, and his godson hadn't been paying attention.

Now, thanks to Albus, he had to deal with another member of that Gryffindor trio mucking into his business. Staring at him with those accusing eyes. Perhaps he could obliviate the chit. Albus would be upset with him, but he'd get over it eventually.

"Ah, if only," he sighed, slumping forward to lay his head down on his desk, exhaustion and pain finally getting the better of him. The dried blood from his shoulder cracked with the movement.

He should probably get some kind of Healing Draught for that, before it decided to split open again. While he was at it, he also needed to retrieve a muscle relaxant and a pain duller from his stores…It was too bad he would have to actually get up from his comfortable chair to do so, though. Glancing toward the storeroom, and calculating the amount of steps it would take to reach it, he decided the effort wasn't worth it at the moment, and sat back into his chair. He'd get there eventually.

He turned to the pile of homework his last class had handed in, and started to shift through it. A majority of it was mediocre trash as usual, full of half answers and no creativity. On a whole, it was barely passable. Then there were the few papers (Longbottom immediately came to mind) that were completely horrendous, full of ink blots, crinkles, and answers so completely wrong, he wondered how the near-muggles even managed to sneak into the school. His headache grew just looking at them. Still, there was the small handful, no more than two or three essays, that were actually worth reading.

Of course, one of those papers belonged to Miss Granger, though he was loath to admit it. Why was he always coming back to that irritating witch today? He picked up her paper to read through, rolling his eyes when he saw, yet again, that it went past the required length. Honestly, did the girl think that he had all day to read her homework? That hers was the only paper he had to work on? He was tempted to just fail her on principle. He had told her a thousand times to only submit the required length. No more, no less.

However, if he was honest, the girl's work was at least intelligent enough not to make his eyes bleed, like the other useless shit he was forced to read.

He marked a giant, red E on the upper right hand corner, before even reading it. He knew that it would be a decent enough paper, possibly even one worth an O, but if she didn't want to pay attention to the instructions, then she deserved the mark down. It served her right.

Besides, as a "loyal" servant to Voldemort, he couldn't afford to give her anything more. She was after all a Gryffindor, Muggle-born and worst of all, Harry Potter's best friend. The girl never stood a chance in his class.

His Slytherins, on the other hand would all pass. Even Crabbe and Goyle, who made Longbottom look like Merlin at times, would. Draco would come out on top, getting an E or an O, partly due to him being Pureblood royalty, and partly due to him actually being good at Potions.

Then again, Severus had been tutoring the boy since he was old enough to hold a ladle straight. It would have been embarrassing if Draco hadn't been any good. He had thought, fourth year, that he would one day be Potion Master material, but that had been before the Dark Lord's return, and Lucius' descent into madness.

_Lucius..._Severus sighed, resting his head back down. Lucius was proving a major irritation as well. His old friend was clearly no longer thinking straight, his mind losing the battle against the Dark Mark's influence. He's short stint in Azkaban was probably the cause of that. And while Severus mourned for the loss of his brother in arms, even more unsettling was the fact that Lucius seemed determined to drag his son down with him.

The original plan that Lucius had shared with him, was to wait until Draco had graduated from Hogwarts before he was allowed to carry the Mark. It would be hard to hide such a thing with thousands of nosy little eyes, constantly watching after all. At least, that's the reason Severus gave. He had hoped that they would stick with this plan in the long run. It made the most sense, and it gave him enough time to find a way of getting Draco out of Europe and safe.

Now Lucius was pushing Draco to take the Mark on his seventeenth birthday, and there would be no turning back for the boy after that. He would be in the thick of it with the other inner circle Death Eaters. Because he was a Malfoy, he would be invited to all the revels, and as a man, expected to participate in them. He would be expected to murder, or rape, or torture if the Dark Lord demanded it and it would kill him.

The stress from the pressure was already taking a large toll on his godson. It was plain to see, if anyone would actually care to look. Every day he grew quieter, more withdrawn. His hair, though still put together, was no longer kept to the immaculate Malfoy standard. His skin was even paler and his eyes were circled with dark bags, dull and empty. It was as if the life were slowly being leeched out of him. He no longer antagonized Potter or his friends anymore either. Hell, he could barely even look at them without cringing. At times, Severus swore that the boy was about to cry, but the Malfoy pride wouldn't allow it.

Severus knew his godson. Underneath the snobbery, the arrogance, and the prejudices, he had the potential to be a good man. The ingredients were all there. They were just being poisoned by the ravings of two bloodthirsty maniacs. Yes, at times he was a prat, even Severus had to admit that, but he was not a killer, and he deserved a chance to prove that he wasn't like his father.

_A chance I never got_, his thoughts took a darker turn, and Severus had to reel them back before his emotions got the better of him. For now, he needed to find a solution to his Draco problem. He had a little over two months to find an answer, and time was slowly slipping through his fingers.

Severus finally got up from his seat to retrieve his much-needed potions. One blue, to help deal with the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse and one yellow, to help relieve his pounding headache. He felt the wound on his back twinge in pain and decided to grab a small healing potion as well. Nothing big, just something that would keep the stab wound, courtesy of Bella, from reopening again.

He had no intention of bleeding out on his classroom floor, for all his students to see. Though, the realization that he did common human things, like bleed, might be more disturbing to them than actually seeing a person die of blood loss. _The little bastards_.

He tossed back each vial, breathing a sigh of relief when his headache disappeared and his body finally relaxed. He flexed his right arm, rubbing the back of his shoulder to make sure the wound was well and truly healed. It was still sore, and would likely scar, but it was, for the most part, healed. That's all he cared about.

A flash of green light flared from the fireplace in his office, quickly followed by the voice of the headmaster.

"Severus, are you there?" Albus called. _Shit, the report._

Pinching the bridge of his nose with an aggravated grunt, Severus made his way to his fireplace, rapidly putting up his privacy charms. "Yes I'm here. I apologize for not stopping by your office last night…I was…more tired than I thought."

Albus' face appeared in the flames. "That's quite alright, my boy. I assume, that you had nothing too urgent to share."

"You're correct. Bella was her usual suspicious self, and Lucius is still selling his son's merit to the Dark Lord. He's moved Draco's initiation up to his seventeenth birthday, probably sooner."

"I see." Albus sighed, pausing to think. "And is he still not talking to you?"

Severus pressed his forehead against his mantle. "He blames me for his father's lower position and consequently his family's misfortune," he said quietly. Honestly, he had no idea how to approach Draco any longer, much less gain his trust. Not when those grey eyes of his looked at him with such disdain. Severus would never admit it to anyone, but it stung seeing one of the few people he cared about turning against him.

Albus must have heard the disappointment in his voice, or maybe it was just because he knew his Potions professor so well, but he replied in a comforting tone. "Give him time, Severus. He is just worried about his father."

"Yes, well, that's not likely to change now. Not with the way Lucius has been lately."

"Is there nothing we can do for him?"

Severus ran a hand through his hair, pushing his pain down. "He's gone," he said with an empty voice. "Not even Cissy can get through to him anymore."

A deep sigh escaped from the headmaster. "Very well, we will plan accordingly. Was that all?"

"Yes─wait, no. There was something else I got from Pettigrew." Severus bent down, closer to the flames. "The Dark Lord has acquired a few journal pages. It is only a few scraps a paper, but whatever information they hold has excited him greatly."

"Do you know whose journal they come from?"

"No, but they mentioned someone I'm unfamiliar with, a Fera Rosier─," At the headmaster gasp, Severus looked sharply at the fire. "You know her."

There was no reply at first, and for a moment, Severus thought that the headmaster had already abandoned him, to rush off somewhere, but eventually his face reappeared. "Yes…yes I do. Are you sure that he does not have the whole journal?"

"Yes, I'm sure of it. Though, he does seem positive that it will only be a matter of time before he has the journal as well. But Albus, what is so important about a witch's journal?"

"I'm sorry, Severus, but I must go. I need to make a few inquiries, but if Tom is seeking what you say he is, then we are, indeed, in grave danger." With that Albus closed the floo connection, leaving before Severus could ask him what he meant.

_I hate it when he does that_. For now, he would just have to wait until Albus was ready to share whatever he had learned.

Voices drifted down the hallway, letting Severus know that his next class was on its way. Moving back to his classroom, he shook himself to clear his head. He took his place in front of his desk with a straight back, arms crossed. The pain, his problems, the mystery of the journal pages, all those worrying thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind as the next round of children took their seats. He would have time to ruminate over them later. The mask was back on and he was ready to play his part again.

"Silence!" his voice snapped, "…turn to page 394."

* * *

So preoccupied with the mystery of her Professor's injury and her upcoming Charms project, Hermione completely forgot about her sleeping issues and the weird dreams that had been plaguing her. So, as her head hit the pillow that night she was completely unprepared for what was to come, and her mind offered little resistance, as yet another dream pulled her deeper within its depths.

_Hermione opened her eyes and found she was in that room again. A chill crept down her spine, as she took in the questionable décor. There was little to no light, except for the small glow provided by the dozens of melting candles littered across the floor. Piles of bones were pushed up against the walls haphazardly, and weird pictures were carved into the stones above them. In the very center of the room was a gothic style, stone altar, that had grotesque pictures painted on the sides of writhing bodies covered in crude flames. Dread filled Hermione, as her eyes took in the familiar features of the young woman who was currently stretched out across the top. Her hands and feet were pulled tightly back by large metal manacles. _

_The low light made it difficult to get a good look at the lady, but what Hermione could see was appalling. The woman's blonde hair was matted and caked with dirt, her clothes were in a similar fashion of disarray: ripped, bloodied and soiled. Bruises were scattered throughout her arms and face and her eyes were covered with a dark blindfold. Hermione knew that whatever was about to happen, would not bode well for her. _

_The door to the room creaked open, startling Hermione. A man in a dark cloak limped into the room. In his hand, he carried a simple leather bound book. He surveyed the room, grunting his approval, before setting the book down on the altar beside the woman. Even though the book looked simple and unassuming enough, there was something about it that just felt…off. Even from where she was standing, Hermione could feel the…wrongness emanating from it. Without preamble, he ripped the blindfold off the woman, leaning over her with a vicious sneer. _

"_Wake up, dear daughter. This is your final chance to tell me…" the man said. Unlike the other dreams, his words weren't spoken in English, but some other dialect that Hermione could strangely understand, but not place. _

_The woman blinked rapidly, gazing around the room in a daze, before finally landing on the man standing beside her. Her eyes narrowed in contempt. "Father", she spat. Her words, too, were in that unknown language._

_The man grabbed her hair and yanked her forward. His eyes glistened with rage. "I know you have had a breakthrough with your research, daughter. In fact," another sharp tug, "I would not be surprised if you had already been able to create it."_

_As the woman turned away, Hermione felt the room shift, until she was the one laying upon the altar in the woman's place, now. Panic welled up within her as her mind screamed at her to fight, to find some way to get of here, but her body stayed still. Her lips began to move on their own accord and she found herself saying, "I have done no such thing." _

_The man's face twisted with fury. He grabbed her face, and forced her to look at him. Pain radiated through Hermione's head at the rough treatment, but again her body made no effort to resist. She felt something battering into her mind, shuffling through her thoughts roughly, before pulling out again. Apparently the man couldn't find what he wanted to in her mind, either._

_He leaned further in until all Hermione could see were his angry grey eyes. "You were always too willful a child to know what was best for you. I allowed you far too many leniencies," he tightened his hold, squeezing her tender cheeks, "I should have known that reasoning with you would prove fruitless. Your mind has become distorted, diseased, from cavorting with that filthy Muggle."_

_Hermione felt her eyes widen a fraction in surprise, causing the man to smirk. "Oh yes, I knew about your little affair with that urchin all along, but I let it pass. You were always a curious thing, and I thought, 'surely this too is just a mere curiosity, an experiment'. But you never discarded him as you were meant to. You continued wallowing in such grime, shaming your family with your whorish dalliances. Even still, I kept my silence, as you were useful after all, and your research was very promising. So, if you wanted to pollute yourself with such garbage, I would allow it, as long as I could profit from your research. And now, after all I have done for you, after I have turned a blind eye to your repugnant behavior, you would deny me!"_

"_It is not MY behavior that civilized witches and wizards would think to be repugnant, but yours! You are nothing more than an unenlightened, barbarian!" She screamed at him, indignation thrumming through her chest. _

"_Ungrateful girl! They are scum! Filth! Entirely beneath us, and you would have done well to have remembered that…" he stopped to collect himself, "But, it is no matter. I will not have to endure your reprehensible acts much longer, nor will I be denied what I seek. You will be a dutiful daughter. One way or another."_

"_If you think that I will break, you are wrong. I will never tell you where it is." Though Hermione had no idea what __**it**__ was or where __**it**__ could be. _

_The man stepped back grabbing the book, opening it to reveal blank pages. He held it open above her head with one hand. The pages were only centimeters away from her nose. "Perhaps you will not," he calmly replied, pulling an odd colored knife, with a bone handle, from his waist with his other hand and pressed the tip against Hermione's chest, just above her heart. "But I will find what I seek." _

_He began chanting in an odd language, one that Hermione couldn't understand this time. The tones were harsh and guttural, the sounds nearly painful against her ears. As the man's voice rose in volume, the pages of the books darkened to a near black. Fear gripped Hermione as black ooze slowly fell from its pages, drawing closer and covering her face in an intense, flash of burning heat. She tried to scream but the ooze quickly covered her mouth forcing its way down her nose, her throat, suffocating her. It was too much, the heat, the pain, it was everywhere, consuming her, it was_─

Hermione jerked awake, grabbing her throat as she took in a deep, beautiful breath of air. As her burning lungs filled with the sweet breeze of oxygen, she shakily sat up in her bed. Her hands flew to her face, still expecting the searing pain to be pulling at her flesh but her fingers only touched soft, cool skin. "Oh, thank God," she whispered, tears of confusion and frustration leaking down her face. _It was just a dream. It was just one of The Dreams again. You'll be okay, Hermione, you'll be okay. Just let it pass._

The young witch roughly wiped at her eyes. _Damn, how could I have forgotten about them. _

Squeezing her eyes, Hermione pushed the remnants of that horrible dream away and struggled to regain the composure the memories stole. Untangling herself from the covers twisting around her legs, she left her bed and shrugged into a small robe. She needed to move, to get out of there, or do something, anything that could help banish all these depressing feelings and memories, that were still swirling around in her head. Without a backward glance, she left Gryffindor tower, too troubled to care about getting caught.

For an hour, Hermione wandered the lonely corridors of Hogwarts, letting the chill of the night seep into her bones and settle her. Thankfully, her heart was no longer beating like a galloping horse, and the burning in her chest had subsided to a dull ache.

Allowing her feet to take her where they willed, she eventually found herself in the third floor corridor on the other side of the castle, looking out of a window towards the Forbidden Forest. Leaning against the window frame, she looked out to the trees and allowed the peace of the castle to settle her thoughts.

Tonight's dream had indeed been an odd one. Never had they felt so…real before. It decided something for Hermione, though. She was going to find someone to talk to about her dreams. She simply couldn't ignore it as unimportant anymore. At first, she just assumed that the dreams were a manifestation of her stress from her extra course load. The prisoner, unable to escape and under constant pressure to crack, the man hunting her down and imprisoning her: it all seemed like pure symbolism to her, taken straight from a Muggle therapy text book. Tonight, however, was different. The dream had been too real to discount, and when that black…stuff had poured down onto her face, she had felt the pain, she had felt it suffocating her. She had FELT it, like it was really happening. That had never happened before.

But what did it all mean? Were the dreams just a figment of her imagination? If they were, then what did that say about her? God, she hoped they weren't; she didn't want that kind of messed-up stuff buried in her subconscious, but if they weren't from her mind, then where were they from? Were they real? She certainly hoped not. She wouldn't wish that torture on anyone.

Glancing up at the moon, Hermione released a breath, as she attempted to get her thoughts in order. She raised an arm to brush her hair back in impatience, when a blur of color down the hall caught her eye.

She whirled around, her wand firmly clenched between her fingers, as she looked up and down the corridor. There was nothing there. _God, Hermione, you really are going off your rocker. _

Deciding that it would probably be best just to head back to bed, she turned on her heel, and began the long walk back to her rooms. Halfway there, a hazy feeling of warmth enveloped her, her mind clouded, and her eyes glazed over in a trance-like state. Sluggish thoughts consumed her, as the need to move pushed her legs forward. She had to go somewhere. Someone was waiting for her….someone….

Her feet moved of their own volition, taking her to the ever important place that her foggy mind insisted she find. She couldn't resist the pull. She walked along corridors, down stairs and past classrooms, until she was deep within the castle's dungeons in an area that she had never seen before. Her feet finally stopped in front of a dark wooden door that clicked open at her approach. The sound echoed through the lonely hallway.

Hermione continued forward, stepping into a small library of sorts, that was covered in dust, cobwebs and books─so, so many books. They were everywhere. Crammed into all the shelves lining the walls, in piles surrounding and on top of the desk and scattered on the floor. They covered the room, but Hermione paid them no mind; their presence didn't even register with her. She only had eyes for one book that was perched atop a thin wooden pedestal. Thick metal chains crisscrossed around its cover, as if they were trapping something within. Still, the book itself was beautiful. Its leather binding looked supple and smooth, with only the smallest hint of wear along the edges. On the cover was a very ornate picture of an owl rising from a lotus flower. Hermione eagerly traced the gold lines with her eyes. It was familiar in some way, but her addled brain couldn't remember why. Still, it called to her.

_Its so beautiful, so smooth…just one touch….just one…_Mesmerized by the beckoning beauty, Hermione reached out to glide her fingers over its cool surface, only to draw her hand back quickly when she felt a sharp pain against her skin. Clutching the wounded digits to her chest, she looked down to see tiny drops of blood leaking from the tips of her fingers.

A numbness, like ice flushing through her system, spread through her hand and into her body. A rush of noise filled her ears, voices and screams tumbling around in her mind like crashing waves. Suddenly, a bright light coated the room, and its luminosity was so intense that it seared her eyes.

"Stop, please, stop!" Grabbing her head, she stumbled back, knocking over a stack of books as she fell to the ground, hiding herself in a ball on the floor from the voices and the light, but it was no use. There was no getting away. It was all too much and soon her body was falling limp, as she passed out.

* * *

Deep within the halls of Lestrange Manor, Voldemort sat on his throne. In his cold hands, he held a small locket that bore Salazar's crest etched into the center. The locket, golden only moments before, was now glowing a sickly green. Its magic hummed as it warmed his palms, and he released a terrible chuckle.

His familiar slithered to his side, wrapping around his legs affectionately. He dropped a hand, to pet her head in return. "Nagini," he hissed, "it is time. The book has finally been opened."

* * *

**A/N: Ok so this one I didn't change around that much. Was it okay? Let me know if you liked it or not. All feedback is welcome and a great help :)**

**Up Next: Severus comes back on the scene and finds a surprise at his bedroom door...**


	4. Uninvited Guests and Rough Mornings

**(Disclaimer: see beginning)**

**This chapter has officially been beta read and corrected! Many thanks to McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe!**

* * *

Chapter 3

There was a crack on the ceiling of Severus' canopy bed. It was small, barely even a centimeter in length and completely insignificant when compared to the monstrous size of the rest of his bed, but it held his attention completely.

It was ridiculous to be so fixated with such a miniscule thing, especially when considering all the other exquisite details that the bed had to offer that were far more pleasant to look upon. The drapes around the frame were a rich velvety green that begged for the hand to touch, his pillows and sheets were made of the softest silk, and the bed's frame was a masterfully carved piece of art. It was the finest furniture that Hogwarts had to offer its staff, and yet his eyes stayed on the chip. The one flaw in an otherwise perfect creation.

He despised it.

So why couldn't he look away? Better yet, he was a wizard. With a flick of his wand he could easily repair the tiny nick. Actually he wouldn't even need his wand for such a small task. He would barely have to twitch his finger for the offending thing to disappear. He would never have to stare at the flaw again.

His hands stayed by his side.

Albus would probably say that it gave the bed character, that it was something to make it stand apart from all the other beds. And then he would twinkle those damn eyes and suggest it was a parable of life or that it made the bed even more beautiful or some other consoling shit like that.

His dark eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the crack. He certainly didn't see a parable in it, nor a unique characteristic, nor anything that could be beautiful. It was a crack, a place where if you hit it just right it could cause the entire frame to collapse. If anything, it was a liability, an ugly liability that only reminded him that the bed was breakable.

Unconsciously, his thumb began stroking the ragged line of scars on his chest. His eyes closed as he took in a deep steadying breath. He wouldn't look at the crack anymore. It was useless to him anyway. He turned over, burying his face in his pillows as a chime sounded from his clock. It was officially two in the morning, and he was still awake.

Oh, he was tired enough to sleep, but wouldn't─couldn't rest. Not yet. If he could stay awake a little longer, he would. Because tonight, he wasn't in enough pain to simply fall unconscious, he wasn't drunk enough to quickly black out, and he wouldn't be able to take Dreamless Sleep for another few days. There would be no swift descent into darkness, there would be dreams, memories and screams…so many screams. So he fought against his exhaustion, listening to the ticking of his clock, and waging a mental war against an inconsequential crack.

Did that make him weak? His reluctance to revisit his memories? A small voice in his head said yes, whispering with it the word _coward_, over and over again.

_But you deserve it, don't you? Why should you get rest, when they never will? _His insidious thoughts snaked across his mind bringing with it, unbidden memories of pain, blood and a pair of big brown eyes, red and rimmed with tears.

And always, always with it came that small voice, shaken with despair. _I don't wanna die_. The words echoed in his mind, pulling him deeper into the memory until he was back on that dirty stone floor, staring into those doe eyes again, hearing that choked plea.

_I don't wanna die._

Panic washed over him. He couldn't save her. "I'm sorry," he whispered. It was too late. It was all his fault, her blood dripping as his wand slashed through the air.

_I don't wanna die._

It was everywhere, her blood was everywhere. On his robes, his shoes, his hands. It would never wash out. They were stained now. They always would be, even if he scrubbed them raw.

_I don't wanna die_.

And those eyes, those brown eyes staring at him, lifeless and accusing.

Severus squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the sheets until his knuckles ached, trying but failing to keep that voice of his head.

_I don't wanna die_.

A soft "caw", broke through the memory, jerking him back to reality. Startled he took in his surroundings, unsure of where he was. Slowly, the fog in his head began to clear as he realized he was in his rooms at Hogwarts and not in _that_ room again.

_You're at Hogwarts_, he reminded himself, breathing in through his nostrils and out through his mouth. In and out, he continued the routine until his breathing was calm once more.

His head was pounding, but he was too relieved to care. He fell against his pillow, rubbing his face as if he could rub the memories away with it. The room was silent once more, and he soaked it in, letting it wash over his nerves and settle them. Just to make sure the memory wouldn't surge forward again, he sunk into his mind, using every Occlumency trick he knew to shove away the events from only a moment ago. He kept pushing until the image of those brown eyes melted away into nothingness. His eyes snapped open, as his mind stilled, becoming calm and silent. Severus Snape was once more in control, and his memories were, for the time being, forgotten.

The source of the cawing, a painted raven, moved again within its portrait on the wall opposite Severus' bed. It flapped its wings erratically, letting loose a few more "caws" to grab its owner's attention and warn him of a possible intruder.

"I heard you," Severus snapped. "Go back to sleep. I'll take care of it." Grabbing his wand from under his pillow, the dark wizard stiffly rose from his bed and towards his door. Already, he was feeling more like himself.

Taking one last breath, he squared his shoulders and yanked the door open. A curse was ready on his lips, but it was unnecessary. His doorstep was empty. Muttering a "lumos", he looked both ways down the hall. It was empty as well. His eyes narrowed. If Peeves was playing another joke on him there would be hell to pay. _I don't get enough sleep as it is without having to deal with the hijinks of a bloody poltergeist, _he thought sourly.

A small whimper drew his attention to the floor, where he found the unconscious body of Hermione Granger sprawled on the ground in just a nightgown, robe and thick woolen socks. _What the Hell is going on here?_

Severus dropped beside Miss Granger, looking down the hallway again for enemies, before scooping her up in his arms and bringing her into his room as quietly as he could. Placing her on his couch, he rushed over to his fireplace and called for Albus to get down to his room as soon as possible.

While he waited for the headmaster, he ran his wand over the girl's body, trying to find out what could possibly be wrong with her.

"Severus, what's the matter?" Albus moved into the room.

"See for yourself." Severus pointed to his couch.

"What's happened to her?"

"I don't know. My alarms went off, and when I went to look I found her unconscious on my doorstep."

"Do you have an idea who was responsible?"

Still feeling slightly irritated, Severus began pacing, ignoring Albus, who had shifted to kneel beside the Gryffindor witch to inspect her left hand. "So far, I cannot discern what it is that ails the girl. If it is some form of dark magic, I cannot readily recall it. You will need to consult Poppy and get her opinion on the matter, while I start researching possible answers. As for answering **who** could have done this─it could be the work of one of the junior Death Eaters dwelling within the school grounds." Here, Severus paused. "Though I cannot be sure. If the Dark Lord has instructed one of them to attack Miss Granger, then I was not made aware of it."

"I see."

"I see?" Severus turned to Albus, who was no longer on the floor but sitting in one of his armchairs. He had the gall to be smiling benignly at the girl. Personally, Severus didn't see anything funny about the situation. That the headmaster could have a good laugh about it, infuriated him.

"I apologize, Headmaster," he bit out, "but I don't seem to understand what you could possibly find so amusing about one of your precious Gryffindors being attacked by a misguided student who has been cajoled into serving a madman! Please enlighten me."

"Calm down, Severus, I know you are worried about our dear Miss Granger, but she will be just fine." About to object to the headmaster claiming he cared for the insufferable girl, Severus stopped when he heard Albus' next words. "This is not the work of the Dark Lord, it's the work of Hogwarts."

"What do you mean, this is the work of Hogwarts? Are you saying that Hogwarts, the castle, has attacked a student?" The headache that had only just eased up a minute ago came back with a full vengeance, as his mind tried to wrap around the impossibility of a murdering castle.

"No, it simply transferred her to where it felt she would be safest while she was unable to defend herself," Albus said calmly.

Severus relaxed slightly. "Hogwarts is capable of such things?"

"The castle and a few House Elves I suspect."

"And it, or the House Elves brought her straight to me? I had no idea I had been designated as the resident babysitter," he drawled, not sure if he was pleased that the castle so obviously trusted him, or annoyed that it made such an assumption in the first place. "That still does not answer my question of who attacked the girl. By your nonchalance, I can only assume that whoever it was is no longer a threat."

"I am not certain who is responsible, but they mean no harm to Miss Granger, so I'm sure it will all work out in the end." Rising from his chair, Albus called out for an Elf.

"Albus, what do you mean, it will all work out, if someone is going around attacking the students─"

The arrival of the House Elf cut Severus off. He or she (the Potions master could never really tell the difference, nor did he care to try) bowed low to the headmaster before speaking. "How can Loli be serving the headmaster, sir?"

"Ah, Loli. Good to see you again." The Elf blushed, flapping its ears in pleasure. "Could you bring Miss Granger here to her bedroom for me?"

"Of course, Headmaster! Loli will takes the Miss Granger right away!" With a snap of her little fingers, Loli popped out of the room, taking the student with her.

Clapping his hands, Albus turned back to his still scowling professor. "Now, my boy, I'll bid you a good night. We've a lot to do tomorrow, what with the children leaving for break."

"W─what?" Severus sputtered following the older wizard to the fireplace. "What about finding out who attacked Miss Granger? Even if you say that this─this…meddling being 'means her no harm', that cannot possibly be true. Why would they attack her if they were friendly? It makes no sense, Albus!"

The headmaster placed a calming hand on Severus' shoulder. "The students will be safe. As will Miss Granger. As for the questions you have, those will be answered in due time. For now, we must be patient and wait for her answer."

"Who's answer?" The headache was getting worse.

"Miss Granger's answer, of course." Without waiting to hear any more questions, Albus was whisked away through the floo network, and Severus was left in his living room, trying to make sense of what the dodgy old man had told him.

_A student was attacked, yet she wasn't really. The attacker in question only attacked said student because they were looking out for her. The same attacker is still on the loose, yet the school is still safe. Oh, and of course all of our questions will go unanswered until Miss Granger gives **her** answer. Though to who she is supposed to answer to and what she is supposed to answer is still undeclared…It's too early in the morning for this shit…_

Severus collapsed on his bed, pulling a pillow over his head to still his whirling thoughts. _I'm glad I can still rely on Albus to make my mental capacities seem utterly negligible…fucking omniscient bastard_. Squeezing his eyes shut he willed his mind to go blank, deciding to wipe this entire blasted evening from his memory. As far as he was concerned he had enough headaches to deal with already, and if this event with Miss Granger had nothing to do with the Dark Lord or his defeat, then it was none of his business.

* * *

At 5:42, Severus was awake, over a half an hour earlier than his alarm clock. The scattered hours of sleep that he was able to get after the Granger incident weren't nearly enough, but he'd functioned on worse before. It was just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rolled out of bed, wincing as his joints and muscles protested from the movement. _And that's what you get for forgetting your pain potion_. Something he could probably blame the Granger girl for as well, but who had the energy for that at─he looked at his clock─nearly six in the morning.

_Shit, I wish I hadn't forgotten. _Two days without properly healing himself had done a number on him. His body was a wreck. He didn't have to look down to know that his pale skin was still covered in bruises. He could feel them like dead weights sitting on his nerves.

Coming in two nights ago, worn out and delirious from pain, he hadn't been able to comb over his body for injuries. He had been too out of it to care. Instead, he had stumbled through a quick shower, fumbled with a healing charm for his back and fallen into bed exhausted. Waking up later than usual the next morning, he barely had time to slip on his robes, much less count his injuries. They were minor anyway.

_Well, they felt minor in any case. _Looking down at his body, they were anything but. A large purple and black spot covered the left side of his waist, a long scabbed over cut ran through the middle. He wasn't sure what spell the Dark Lord had used on him. At the time, it had felt like a boulder was trying to barrel though him.

Aside from the knife wound on his back, that had healed nicely yesterday, that was as bad as it got. There were a couple of smaller bruises and cuts here and there but he could handle that. And though his body was stiff as hell, he had lucked out. He knew very well that he wasn't at the top of the Dark Lord's favorites list anymore. He had been slowly descending for a while now. It was only a matter of time until he was knocked off completely and became food for the dogs, _or probably for Nagini._

With that morbid thought firmly planted in his mind, he grabbed a pair of black sweat pants and matching jumper. It didn't matter that his time was slowly ticking away. He didn't need much anyway. He just needed a little. Enough that he could get the Order the information they needed to finally put an end to the Dark Lord's reign. Hopefully, he would even get to see the light fade from that monster's eyes.

But that could be weeks, even months away. For now, he would wait, and go about his daily business. So, ignoring his aches and pains he pulled on his clothes, cast a Disillusionment Charm and left his room to train.

Usually, Severus hauled himself all the way down to the Forbidden Forest for a morning run, but he knew that with his body feeling the way it was, he would collapse in the first half hour. So instead he chose to bypass the forest today and go straight to his training room.

Turning down a flight of stairs that took him deeper into the dungeons, past the dormitories, past the classes and into a part of the school that lay untouched and forgotten. He stopped in front of a battered door that looked like it was ready to fall off its hinges. Its frame, wood instead of stone like the rest of the castle, was rotted and burnt, and the metal bolts and doorknob looked so rusted that one touch could make them crumble away.

Severus reached for the handle anyway. A shimmer of magic slid over the entrance, transforming it into a beautifully crafted cherry wood door. He walked inside, not even giving it a second glance. The minute his hand lifted, the vision of polished craftsmanship disappeared and morphed back into a ragged doorway. His charm was firmly back in place.

Technically, he wasn't allowed to ward the door. Albus insisted that it wasn't fair for him to block other colleagues/students from a public room. The castle was for "everyone" or some rot like that. He had stopped listening after Albus told him no. Luckily for him, the old man didn't say anything about keeping people away. So he cloaked every square inch of the hallway, and the door with nearly all the illusion spells he knew. As an extra precaution, he also added a few repelling charms. So far no one had discovered his secret place.

The Disillusionment spell fell away from him as he looked around the room. As per his request, the Elves didn't stop by here on their cleaning route, so there was a fine layer of dust collecting everywhere. Now that he thought about it, he had been going outside a lot lately.

He summoned three dummies to the empty mat in the middle of the floor. Their clay bodies were still in the same frozen attack positions that he had left them in. Their faces, more of a cosmetic addition than a practical one, stared passively at him, waiting for his command. Like everything else in the room, including the weapons and movable obstacles, nothing could move without his directions. Unlike the Room of Requirement, where everything was set with just a thought, the objects in this room had to be enchanted by him. A small price to pay for privacy.

He grabbed a couple of daggers from one of the racks and went back to the mat for a quick warm up exercise. When he was finished, he wandlessly waved a hand in front of the dummies. "Parum vitas". A jolt ran through the forms of clay as they straightened. Each drew a sword, the edges of the steel worn and blunt as a precautionary measure for when he made the occasional misstep. There were also a couple of cushioning charms in place so each hit would only leave a bruise or a small cut. It still hurt like hell, but that was the point. It was easy to make the same mistakes when there were no consequences to teach you otherwise.

Barely giving him a chance to prepare himself, the three dummies threw themselves at him, swords whirling in deadly arcs. The charms he wove into their structure made it so they would continue to relentlessly attack until either he "killed" them or he surrendered. Just as he preferred it.

One of the dummies had charged in front of the others and was already swinging its blade down. Severus barely had time to duck before it whistled past his head. A few strands of black hair floated to the floor. _Shit . Too close, Severus, wake up. _Rolling away and springing back to his feet, he swung his foot back in a sweeping kick that made one of the dummies crumble to the floor. Not a second later, it came back up, its sword lunging towards Severus' chest. Using one of his daggers to push the sword away, he shifted to the side to avoid another blade. In a quick move that had taken him years to perfect, he flicked out his wrist, slicing the blade across one of the dummies throat─thus deactivating it, while using that momentum to shoot his other leg up and out. Two dummies fell away from him, one of which stayed down. The other spun back to its feet and with its partner, flew at him again.

The sounds of blades striking and grinding against each other filled the room as the fight carried on. Sweat was pooling down his back by the time he was able to take another dummy out. Sensing that it was the last one standing, the final dummy's moves became more aggressive and jerky, mimicking the desperation of a man who didn't want to die (a complicated piece of charm work that had taken Filius a week to teach him). Swinging wildly, it relentlessly pursued him at a blinding pace that eventually got it close enough to jab Severus in his side right over his bruise. Pain raced up his body squeezing at his chest.

He stumbled back a few steps, clutching at his side, while trying to fend the dummy off with just one arm. As good as he was one-handed, his movements were quickly getting sloppy. He wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer. Something had to give, and he'd be damned if he lost to a chunk of clay.

Without a word or wand, he flung a spell at his opponent, flinging it across the room to slam against the wall. The dummy struggled to get out of its invisible bindings, but Severus' spell held firm. Calmly walking over, Severus jammed his dagger in its throat ending the fight and deactivating the little hellion until next time. "Bastard."

"Wasn't that cheating?" the headmaster's voice whispered from behind him.

_Morgana's tits!_ Severus had to fight the urge to jump out of his socks. He hated when Albus snuck up on him. _Perhaps I should look into getting him a bell…._

"Not at all," the younger wizard answered before Albus could catch onto his thoughts. "When it's about survival, there are no rules." It was one of the fundamental codes of Slytherin.

"Well put." Albus said. "How are you this morning?"

_And here comes the tedious conversation_. Severus rolled his eyes and walked over to a small tub filled with water in the far left corner of the room. Dipping a rag in the cool liquid, he washed his face_. _"I'm fine. Yes, the weather's looking lovely. Sure, I like your new pair of socks. And no, I'm not particularly happy that the Elves are serving custard for desert today. There. Now that all the pleasantries are handled, you can get to the point of why you're really here."

Albus was not impressed with his wit. "You did not sleep well." A statement. Not a question. "Do you need any numbing spells?"

With a sigh, Severus dropped the rag. "No, the pain is manageable, though I do need to reseal the cut on my waist." Transfiguring one of the pictures on the wall into a full-length mirror, he took off his shirt to check out the dummy's work. The black and purple bruise was now oozing his blood in a sluggish trickle. Swishing his wand, he summoned a batch of simple healing paste, unscrewed the cap and rubbed a generous amount onto his abused skin. The paste's magic tingled as it sealed his cut, leaving the smallest of scars behind, and changed the color from an ugly purple to a sickly yellow. Give it another hour and he was sure it would be gone completely.

"What about your runes?" Albus inquired, eyeing the younger man's left arm, the one that held the Dark Mark. "Tom's hold has gotten stronger, has it not?"

Snape made no comment, but twisted his arm and muttering the spell to end the Glamour that was settled on top of his skin. It wasn't there for the Dark Mark of course. The Dark Lord had made it near impossible to hide the mark with magic. He insisted all his followers wear the brand with pride. To shy away from its image and therefore your loyalties was…ill advised. Severus wisely never attempted to test these claims.

The Glamour he regularly wore was instead used to cover up the other markings that were permanently etched onto his arm. Dozens of Celtic runes swirling up his arm in crisscrossing lines, covering his shoulder, and gracing the left side of his neck and parts of his back in black ink. Each one had been burned into his skin with magic and served a different purpose. A good number were healing runes, life preservers that would give him a few extra minutes of aid if he were ever on death's door (which was too often for Albus' liking). The others were a mixture of runes to give him added mental strength, protection, clarity and various other boons that helped with his job.

The main purpose of the runes however, were to keep the influence of the Dark Mark at bay. After all, the mark was an extension of his master, a constantly open connection that allowed his darkness, his evil to seep into his followers. That kind of constant exposure could easily corrupt even the noblest of men, and lately, it had been getting worse. So, a majority of the rune lines were put around it, encircling and crossing over it in a busy complex knot that trapped the dark magic like metal chains would restrain a wild beast. The spell work it took to achieve this was a masterful creation that was so subtle that even the Dark Lord couldn't sense it through their bond, but then, Filius wasn't a world-renowned Charms master for nothing.

Now looking at some of the runes, which had small breaks in them, gaps of pale flesh where black ink should've been, Severus knew he needed a refresher before he even thought about going on another assignment. "Just the ones around the Mark. The healing runes have a little more life in them." Severus conjured two chairs and held his arm out for the other wizard.

"Of course," Albus responded and immediately went to work, humming a string of incantations while following each broken rune around the mark with the tip of his wand. Immediately, Severus could feel the Dark Mark trying to fight against the bindings. Its influence, like a deadly whisper, tried to slip into his mind telling him that he didn't need to go through with this, that he should stop Albus and just accept it, but Severus resisted. He threw up more mental walls, clearing his mind with deep even breaths. This enraged the willful mark further, and it sank its claws deeper into his body, tightening its hold while lashing out. Severus could feel its invisible claws raking against his skin, but he kept quiet. It would die down eventually.

Instead, Severus concentrated on the by now, familiar burning sensation that came with the runes restoration. After years of going through this process, the pain from the application was nearly negligent. And of the two, it was far easier to deal with the runes magic then the Dark Mark's pull.

After nearly a half hour of mending, the broken runes were knitted back together, once more pulsing with subdued power. Severus was exhausted.

"Much better," Severus flexed his arm, shivering as the runes' magic solidified on his body. "Now back to the matter at hand," He turned back to the headmaster. "What do you need me to do?"

Albus walked over to his pupil's side. "First things first, are you sure you are well enough to go?" Severus didn't answer. He didn't need to. The jobs that Albus gave him were given to him because he was the only one who could do them. If he didn't do it, then it wouldn't get done right. So, injured or not, he would do what he needed to do. Severus gave him a pointed look that said as much.

"Very well", Albus continued with a worn sigh. "A young witch was taken from her home at around 3:30 this morning. We believe that it's the work of Tom's snatchers, but we can't be sure. I need you to find out what Tom wants with her."

"How do you know that she's not just for entertainment purposes?"

Albus looked at him with sad eyes. "We can't dismiss that possibility…however, I feel like this is more."

Severus nodded, putting his shirt back on. He had learned a while ago that Albus' instincts could be counted on more than even the most accurate oracle. So if Albus told him something else was afoot, then there probably was.

"Our latest information suggests that they were headed towards Deadmarsh."

"They're probably hiding within the swamp then."

"So the hags have decided to side with Tom."

Severus sighed unhappily. "Not all. We still might be able to convert a few, but most have taken up his cause and would be happy to hide a few of his pawns."

"I feared as much. You will have to be careful then."

"Should I be seen?" Severus asked.

"No. We might have to extract her and if that's the case, I don't want your name attached to her escape."

"Give me a day then." Severus headed out the door, not waiting for a response. Not being seen, meant that he couldn't use his status as a Death Eater to get the information, which would take longer. But it was no matter. If he couldn't be a Death Eater, then he would become a shadow.

* * *

**A/N:****I always felt like Severus would be a good fighter. Not only did he have to learn how to protect himself, growing up where he did but he also had to defend himself while at school. Not to mention, he always seemed like the kind of man who would never like to be caught unprepared or vulnerable. So even if he couldn't use his wand or his magic, he would still be able to defend himself. Additionally, going through crucios and beatings from Voldy, it would make sense that he would want to keep up his physical health so he could fight against the side effects easier. **

**Anywho-that's just how I saw it going down. Hope you enjoyed the quality time with our favorite potions master. Let me know what you think and thanks for reading! **


	5. Tattoos and Enigmatic Headmasters

**(Disclaimer: The characters and world that you find familiar belong to JK Rowling. I do not own them and make absolutely no money off of them. Anything you don't recognize is mine-unless specified later).**

**Back at it again! I'm sorry that my updating schedule has been a little hectic. I'm only a couple weeks away from FINALLY graduating from college, so its been a busy semester. I'm hoping that the updates will pick up in May. Or at least they should. **

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**Update: This chapter has officially been beta'd. Many thanks to McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe**

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Chapter 4

The morning sun filtered through Hermione's window, tickling her eyelids and pulling her out of her unconscious state. Blinking against the too bright light, she burrowed her head into her pillow with a groan. The curtains around her bed were pulled back and neatly tied up, giving her a good view of the now empty dorm room. Not hearing any noise coming from the bathroom either, she realized that Lavender and Parvati were probably already down at breakfast by now.

"Just how late did I sleep in," she muttered, squinting at the small wall clock hanging above the bathroom door. _10:16, wow I haven't had a lie in like this in a while. I wonder why Ron and Harry haven't started banging on my door yet. _

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she grabbed her toiletry bag and started to grab her robe when something on her left hand caught her attention.

"What on earth?" Hermione brought the limb up to her face to get a closer look at the monstrosity that was now sitting on her hand. Small words, printed onto her skin in black ink made up the swirling rings that covered nearly all of the back of her hand. She twisted her hand around to follow the curving letters.

_Amor sanguinis, sigillum contera. Dominus maledictionem obliviebat levare. Nunc, protector portam es, _she mentally read, only able to pick out a few words here and there. Something about blood, forgetting and a door…

The words were definitely Latin, she at least knew that, but her skill with the dead language was rusty at best. What she did know was mostly limited to the bastardized phrases that were used in spell-work. _Wait a minute─_

"A spell," she whispered, now panicked as she finally realized what the words could mean. Someone had cast a spell on her, and now she had a tattoo of sorts on her hand. It was the only explanation she could think of for why there was suddenly a circle of Latin words on her skin.

_What if one of the Slytherins got to you? What if they cursed you? _Her traitorous mind hissed. She tried to shake the thoughts off. After all, she had been in her dorm all night. How would they have gotten into Gryffindor tower, much less her dorm?

_But you weren't in your rooms last night, were you?_ Her thoughts supplied once more, and then she remembered. Memories from the night before rushed through her mind. She remembered it all, the dream, the walk, the pull towards that weird room and the strange book. And then there had been voices and a bright light.

_Oh God!_ There was no doubt in her mind now. She had been cursed, and possibly possessed. How else could she explain that pull she had felt and how she had found the room in the first place?

"Oh, no! Oh, no, no, no!" This was bad. This was really, really bad. She needed to get this thing off! Reverting to her Muggle ways under her rising anxiety, she called a washcloth to her and began scrubbing away at the words until her skin became red and tender.

A nudge from a wet nose on her thigh brought her back to reality, and the young witch looked down to find her familiar sitting calmly beside her. Under one of his paws was her wand, which he rolled towards her as if to remind her of her magical status.

"Right." Hermione took in a deep shaky breath to steady her nerves and plucked her wand up. She needed to remain calm and keep a level head. _You're Hermione Granger, the top witch in your class, you can do this_, she reminded herself sternly even as her wand hand still quivered, but she chose to ignore that.

"Thanks, Crookshanks, I needed that." Nodding towards her familiar, she began running cleaning charms, diagnostic charms (just in case it was harming her) and curse breaking charms. Nothing worked, although several of the diagnostic charms indicated that the tattoo wasn't causing her any harm. _For now…_

"How could this have happened, though?" Hermione rambled while wringing her hands, then stopped, nearly smacking herself in the head to restore her common sense. "No, priorities, Hermione. First, you go to the headmaster and get it off, then you can worry about how it got there," she affirmed.

She wouldn't make the same mistake she had made the other day and try to deal with this on her own. Unfortunately, that meant that she would also have to tell Harry and Ron about this whole mess, too. If the roles were reversed, she would certainly expect it of them.

Quickly shrugging on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, she wrapped a cloth around her hand, hiding the black words from sight as a last minute precaution. She nearly ran out of her room, running straight into another body not a second later. Stumbling back, she caught herself on a nearby wall just in time.

"Sorry about that, Hermione," Ginny said, helping her friend to find her balance once more. "Didn't see you there. But it's good that I bumped into you. I was just on my way to wake you up and

"Ginny, thank Merlin! I need your help," Hermione said earnestly, grabbing onto the redhead's hand.

Seeing Hermione's pleading expression, Ginny snapped to attention, worry over taking her features. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Hermione shook her head to clear it, "II think I've been cursed." She paused at her friend's gasp and held up her covered hand to stall any questions. "I can't go into it right now, but I need to find the headmaster. He'll know what to do and how to get this stupid thing off of me."

Becoming the spitting image of the Weasley matriarch, Ginny squared her shoulders and crisply nodded her head, before grabbing Hermione's hand and leading her out of the common room. "Let's go then, we have a lot of ground to cover."

* * *

When it became apparent that the headmaster was nowhere to be found, not even in his office, the girls decided to look for Harry and Ron, so they could expand their search party. Hogwarts was a big castle, after all, and the more people that could look, the better. Besides, Hermione knew that they would want to know what was happening to their friend as well.

So the search for the boys and the headmaster continued. Since the girls figured they had gone ahead to breakfast, they headed down to the Great Hall to catch up with the two, but they weren't there. As they were leaving to continue their search, Seamus mentioned seeing them with Neville down at the greenhouses.

Sure enough, as they came upon the school's garden, Hermione spotted two students off in the distance, kneeling in the dirt. One of which had a distinctly fiery head of hair. Hermione smirked. _Thank God for those Weasley genes._

"Ginny, look," she pointed towards the clear houses, "there they are."

Ginny squinted her eyes. "Yup, I'd know that red hair anywhere. Come on, let's go see what's going on." The two headed over to the school's gardens to see Harry and Ron both on their knees, tugging at weeds. They made quite a sight. Both were covered with dirt, though Harry seemed to be faring better than Ron. Although his black hair was even more chaotic than usual and his glasses were slightly askew, he looked more put together than Ron, who was red faced, sweating and wrestling with a weed. Ginny walked up behind Harry. "What are you two doing?"

Ron yanked off his gloves and threw them to the ground in frustration. His patience, which was never impressive to begin with, was clearly running low. "I'll tell you what we're doing, we're straining our bloody backs and doing an unholy amount of work when we should be relaxing on our spring hols. _That's_ what we're doing."

Before Ron could go on a proper tirade, Harry stepped in, pushing his glasses back into place. "Neville said he needed our help this morning. Apparently, a bunch of these dock weeds just sprouted up last night out of nowhere, and Professor Sprout has been running in circles trying to get them in hand. She's been getting students to help all day for extra credit." He looked around. "Don't know where Neville went, though, he was just here a second ago."

Ron looked around as well. "Yeah…" he turned to Harry with a sudden smile, "let's get out of here while the coast is clear."

"Ron, we can't just up and go." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Sure we can, watch this." Ron deliberately stood up, dusted himself off and walked off. He turned back around to face them, spreading his arms wide. "See, easy."

"Actually, we came to find you for a reason," Hermione interrupted them, growing impatient. "I need your help."

Harry, about to say something else to Ron, turned towards the two girls, noting for the first time the worry radiating off of them. "Okay, let's go, but first let me tell Neville we had to leave," he said, casting his Patronus and giving it the message to send like Dumbledore had taught them. With the Patronus on its way, Harry cleaned himself off and turned to the girls, following them to a secluded part of the gardens and throwing up a Silencing Charm.

"What's wrong?"

Wringing her hands, Hermione decided to just show them everything and hastily unwrapped the cloth from around her hand. Flexing her fingers and sticking her hand out, palm down, for the others to see, she continued. "I woke up this morning with this on my hand. I don't know what it is exactly, but I think I've been cursed."

"You _think_ you've been cursed? Why aren't you sure?" Harry asked, taking Hermione's hand and twisting it around, trying to read the words. "Did something happen?"

"Well, last night, I had a nightmare, so I went for a walk

"Hermione! You went alone? Are you crazy?!" Ron barked, shaking his head.

Huffing, Hermione glared at Ron, "Look, I know it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I was stressed, okay! Now are you going to let me finish or not?"

A blush swept across Ron's cheeks and he ducked his head, muttering an apology.

"Thank you," Hermione answered primly before nervously looking down at her hand again. "Anyways, I went for a walk when all of a sudden I felt the need to go somewhere and I" the witch hesitated, as the words suddenly clogged in her throat. For some reason, she didn't want to tell them where she went. She didn't want them to know about the mysterious room and the mysterious book. It was slightly irrational, but she tried to convince herself that she didn't want to tell them because she knew they would fly off to the room and possibly be cursed like she was.

_It's better to just tell Dumbledore about the room instead, since he'll be able to deal with whatever's in there_, she reasoned with herself pushing away the possessive feelings towards the room and the book that had suddenly appeared.

"And you what, Hermione?" Ginny asked, motioning for the older witch to continue.

"Sorry, it's all a little hazy," Hermione replied, mentally cringing at the lie. "But I started to walk and then I just collapsed, blacking out. Next thing I know I'm back in my bed and my hand is decorated with Latin."

If the others were able to see through her lie, Hermione couldn't tell. If anything, they probably thought that her sudden bout of nerves had to do with her new tattoo and not her vague story.

"That doesn't sound good. Do you think it's some kind of dark spell", Ron asked.

"Do you think it's Voldemort?" Harry looked up, a fiery glint in his eyes.

Shaking her head, to clear away her unexpected protectiveness towards the room, she focused on the problem at hand.

The possibility of Voldemort being behind the tattoo couldn't be dismissed. Especially since the school year had been relatively quiet. It seemed they were due for another Voldemort episode. Still, it was hard for her to forget the warmth from last night. _Could evil feel so…pleasant? _

"I don't know," Hermione mumbled, covering her face, confused and frustrated that she didn't have the answer.

"Does it hurt or anything like that?" Harry asked.

"No, I can't feel anything from it. It's like it's just a regular tattoo sitting on my hand," Hermione answered.

"Well, that's good at least. We still definitely need to see Dumbledore, of course. But at least it's not hurting you." Ginny sighed relieved.

"Yeah, that we know about…" Ron muttered.

"Ron!" Ginny scolded, slapping her brother upside the head.

Hermione got in between the two before their fight could escalate. "No, Ron's right. We don't know if it's dangerous or not, even if it's not an immediate threat right now."

"Shouldn't you go to the infirmary?" Ron asked. "Madame Pomfrey might know how to deal with this."

"No," Harry interrupted, "cursed tattoos aren't really her thing. She would probably just call on Dumbledore anyway."

"That's what I thought," Ginny agreed. "But I haven't seen him yet and we've been keeping an eye out for him all day. We even went by his office," she finished, kicking at a pebble.

"Right, let's go check out his office one more time, then if he's not there, we can talk to McGonagall. She might know where he is," Harry suggested, canceling the Silencing Charm and motioning towards the castle.

"It's Professor McGonagall, Harry," Hermione corrected automatically, making the others shake their heads in exasperation. At least the tattoo wasn't affecting the Gryffindor witch's personality.

* * *

Standing in front of the gargoyle protecting the headmaster's office, they realized they had no idea what the password to enter was anymore. Since asking the stone beast if the headmaster was there wasn't working and they knew of Dumbledore's penchant for sweets, they started throwing out the names of as many candies as they could think of.

"Blood Suckers!"

"Berry Fizz-poppers!"

"Chocolate frogs!"

"Lemon drops!"

"Well, I've got nothing," Hermione said, leaning against the wall. As the daughter of two dentists, sweets weren't her forte, even the magical variety. After trying out the hand full of candy names she did know, she was content to watch her friends try cajoling the gargoyle into moving. Eventually, they too ran out of ideas. Not surprisingly, Ron knew the most and was the last of them to throw in the towel.

Ginny sat next to Hermione on the floor. "Now what?"

Hermione answered her. "Now we go to Professor McGonagall, and see if she can help me get this blasted thing off, and if that doesn't work, then I'll ask Professor Snape."

Ron's eyes bulged. "Snape? Why on Earth would you go to that git? Have you gone completely mental?"

Hermione looked down the hallway to make sure it was empty. Just in case, she also whispered a quick "Muffliato".

"That's Professor Snape, Ron, and it's a perfectly reasonable option. He's very knowledgeable about dark arts, so it stands to reason that he'll know what we're dealing with here."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Hermione, he can't be trusted."

Agitated, Hermione sighed, "YOU can't trust him, but I can and do."

"But he's a Death Eater and a third rate bastard!" Ron cried.

"WAS! He was a Death Eater, not is."

Harry scoffed, "He might still be for all we know. I mean, I know that Dumbledore says that we can trust him but

"Exactly!" Hermione cut in, her voice rising considerably. "Professor Dumbledore, the man who knows practically everything that goes on in this school and who is also a very good judge of character, says we can trust him! And that's good enough me. Even if it wasn't, not only does he risk his life daily, spying for the Order, but he's saved our lives, God only knows how many times. And I know you remember how he tried to warn Minister Fudge about Voldermort's return fourth year. Now you tell me, if he was still loyal to Voldermort, why would he try to stop his return?"

"Because he was trying to trick everyone!" Harry persisted stubbornly.

"Oh for the Love" Throwing her hands up, Hermione turned away and began counting to ten to calm herself down before she started banging her head against the wall. This argument, a sore spot between the three friends ever since they learned of the wizard's job for the Order in fourth year, was doomed to go nowhere. No matter how many times she tried to get the boys to see reason and understand that their Potions professor was in fact not evil, they refused to listen. _Why do they have to be so stubborn on this?_

"Fine, whatever," Hermione relented, saving the argument and headache for another day. "You don't want to trust him, you don't have to. I, however, do, and if there's a chance that he can get this stupid…THING off, then I'm going to take it, whether you approve or not."

Ginny, who up until that moment had decided to remain quiet, spoke up. "I think Hermione's right. That mark and these dreams are serious business, and we need to find a solution. Period. Besides, we'll be right there with her when she goes to him. So even if he does try something sneaky, we'll catch it."

Harry seemed to be wrestling with the idea for a moment, clearly not liking the thought of being anywhere near the dark wizard. Finally, he relented, nodding his consent. "Fine, we go to him, too. But ONLY as a last resort."

Before she could retort that she wasn't really asking for Harry's permission, Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. She reminded herself again that the boys were simply trying to protect her. And although they were being bull-headed arses…well, at least they were bull-headed arses that cared. Besides, now was not the time for fighting. She had to find McGonagall, and if she couldn't find her Head of House, then she would take a trip down to the dungeons, with or without their blessing.

In the end, the choice of which professor to go to was taken out of Hermione's hands when a flying piece of paper shaped as a bird fluttered to Hermione's side and unfolded in her hands. Scanning the content of the note, she had to blink back her surprise. "Well, that settles that I guess," she mumbled.

"What is it?" Ginny asked.

"It's a note from Professor Dumbledore. He wants me to meet him in his office to discuss something." Hermione tucked the note in her pocket.

Ron turned back, looking at the gargoyle they had just left. "Wait, when did he get back to his office?"

Hermione waved him off, "It doesn't matter. He probably came in through his floo. He's the headmaster you know, he can travel through any floo in the castle that he wants."

"Well," Harry pushed, "what does he want to talk about?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, his message didn't say." _I wonder if he knows that I need his help_, she thought. She wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. The headmaster did have a tendency of knowing absolutely everything that went on inside and outside of the castle.

Waving at her friends and promising to find them after her meeting, Hermione made her way back to the headmaster's office, quickly rewrapping her left hand. This time, the gargoyle was prepared for her and had its wings spread and the stairs to the office raised. She raised her hand to knock on the door. _Okay, Hermione, breathe and relax. Just find out what he wants, then tell him what happened. Dumbledore will know what to do._

"Come in," a voice said from inside, beckoning her to enter.

"Hello, Professor." Hermione stepped inside taking the seat he offered. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, how are you, my dear? Licorice snap?"

Hermione declined his offer. "No, thank you, and I've been…good." She answered instead of telling him about her tattoo or the events of last night. She couldn't understand it, but all of a sudden, she didn't want to tell the headmaster about her secret room either. Those same possessive urges that she had felt around her friends welled up once more, pressing her to stay silent.

_Could he be trusted? No one should know about the book,_ a voice spoke softly in the back of her mind. Clenching her covered hand, she took a breath to clear her thoughts. That was silly, though, wasn't it? Of course she could trust the headmaster. He was Albus Dumbledore, one of the most trustworthy people in the world.

If Dumbledore picked up on her hesitancy, he made no mention of it. Instead he picked up a few papers from his desk. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here."

"Yes, sir, I was." _And I'm very glad you did. _

"Nothing untoward, I assure you. There is simply a small matter of paper work that needs to be taken care of regarding your extra classes this year. How are they going, by the way?" he asked, sliding a stack of parchments her way.

"Very nicely. Nothing I can't handle, of course," she murmured as she read then reread the documents in her hands. "Sir," she put the papers down, "these are age verification forms. Why am I looking at these?"

"Well, Miss Granger, this is the second time you've been given permission to use a Time-Turner and as such, have aged a significant amount. If my calculations are correct, you're turning eighteen this year instead of seventeen."

"I'll be turning nineteen, sir."

"Ah, yes, that's right, your eleventh birthday was right after the start of term."

"Yes, sir. I had to wait another year for my letter."

He pulled at his beard in thought. "No matter, we'll just need to specify that on the form. Now we can't take an official record of your age just yet, since we need the deputy headmistress' signature as well as Poppy's and mine. And unfortunately, I just sent Minerva off to France to handle some business for me," he said with a soft chuckle, laughing at his own private joke. "Poor planning on my part. But she should be back by tomorrow, or the day after by the latest. Then we'll be able to pop over to the Ministry."

"But sir, why do I need to fill the form out at all? The Ministry hasn't made them mandatory for Time-Turner registration last I heard. In fact they're so superfluous that I wouldn't be surprised if the ministry forgot they even existed."

The headmaster smiled benignly. "That may be so. Nevertheless, the law is the law and even suggested forms need to be taken care of if Hogwarts is to maintain a cordial relationship with the Ministry and be a model for the rest of the wizarding community. Wouldn't you agree?"

There was something in the way Professor Dumbledore said the last part with a slight twinkle in his eye that gave Hermione pause. Try as she might, she couldn't picture the headmaster over extending himself to make sure the Ministry was happy, especially when he seemed to take an unusual amount of glee from running circles around Minister Fudge in particular. No, something else was going on. She just had no idea what it was.

Dumbledore continued without waiting for her answer. "I also wanted to make sure that you'd be staying for the break. Minerva put you down on the list, of course, but it never hurts to double check."

Snapping out of her thoughts, she confirmed, "Yes, I am."

"Good, good! That makes this much easier. Regardless of your age, as a student you're still the responsibility of the school. So a professor has to travel with you when you leave school grounds, which I'm sure Minerva would be happy to volunteer for."

"Um okay, thank you." Hermione gathered up the papers, then hesitated again.

This time, the headmaster didn't let it go. Instead, he leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk as he took in the Gryffindor's nervous state. "I know this has taken you by surprise, so if there is anything you want to ask, anything at all, please feel free to do so." He looked down past the papers at her covered hand pointedly.

When Hermione, again, felt the urge to stay silent, Dumbledore nodded as if he understood what was happening to her, before getting up from his chair. "Miss Granger, I believe I have something that you would find interesting. If you would stay there a moment."

Shuffling around his room, he stopped in front of an old rose wood cabinet that looked as if it hadn't been opened for ages. Spelling it open with his wand, Dumbledore proceeded to sift through the clutter inside of the piece of furniture until he finally came upon an old framed picture.

"Ah! Here it is," the headmaster exclaimed, moving to stand in front of Hermione once more. Gazing down at the picture fondly, he then handed it to the young witch and leaned against his desk waiting, expectantly for her reaction.

Hermione of course did not disappoint. With a gasp, she clutched at the frame taking in the familiar features of the beautiful young woman who had been haunting her dreams for weeks. It was a simple pencil drawing, and so, Hermione was unable to see if the woman's eyes were the same blue she always dreamt about or if her hair was the same golden hue, but that didn't matter. There was no doubt in her mind that her dream woman and this woman were the same person.

"Who─", Hermione gulped, "who is she?" She traced the woman's severe mouth, with a shaky finger.

"That, my dear, is Fera Rosier. A student that attended Hogwarts during Headmaster Trimble's tenure. She was a true prodigy. Absolutely brilliant in every field she delved into," Dumbledore sighed, "She went on to do her own private research after school and would have undoubtedly been an incomparable asset to the wizarding world."

"Would have been, sir?" Hermione asked, though she had a feeling she knew how Fera's story would end.

"Hmm, yes. Five years after her graduation, she inexplicably disappeared. No one knew what had happened to her. A few weeks later, her mother died of heartbreak, as the story says...a truly tragic ending."

Dumbledore moved back to sit behind his desk. "Yes, truly unfortunate. It was well known that she had just reached a breakthrough in one of her projects as well. But when her house was searched later, all of her notes had been burned to ash. Very mysterious, wouldn't you say, Miss Granger?" The headmaster glanced at Hermione with a knowing look.

A memory of a dream flashed in Hermione's mind of a woman standing over a fire, angry tears streaking down her face.

Hermione's grip on the picture frame tightened painfully. If that dream was true, then how much of the other dreams were true as well? Had Fera been trying to escape? Had she really been captured and tied to that altar for that weird ritual with the book? And what about that man she had called father?

Hermione gasped, straightening in her seat. "Professor, what about Fera's father?"

The headmaster's gaze sharpened. "Why do you wish to know about him?"

"Um, well," she averted her eyes, "well, you had mentioned her mother, but you never said anything about her father."

"Of course," Dumbledore murmured, accepting her answer, though Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that he saw straight through her lie. _He knows more about what's going on than he's telling me._

"To answer your question," he continued, "Colten married again a year later and spent the rest of his life attempting to join Hogwarts Board of Governors. He claimed that he wanted to be close to the place his daughter had most cherished."

"Why was he never allowed on the Board?" Hermione asked, knowing full well that the Rosiers had been and still were a prestigious Pureblood family. And considering how Purebloods practically ran and had run the wizarding world for thousands of years, she was a little shocked that he hadn't gotten the position he craved.

"Ah, yes, it seemed that although Headmaster Trimble had a valued relationship with Fera and her mother, it did not extend to the rest of the Rosier line. In fact, he did not get along with Colten at all, and used his considerable influence in the wizarding community to bar him from the Board. Headmaster Trimble would not even allow the man to step foot in Hogwarts. It was quite the spectacle." Dumbledore finished with a gentle smile.

Hermione's mind was whirling with all this new information. _Headmaster Trimble must have known about Fera's research and her father's part in her disappearance. But why would he stop him from coming into the school? He couldn't have been doing it just because he didn't like the man. No, it had to be something else…Perhaps he was trying to keep the man away from something. _

Hermione looked down into Fera's serious eyes as the answer dawned on her. _The book, the room! That's why her father wanted to get into Hogwarts, and Headmaster Trimble was probably trying to keep him away. But what could he want from the book? Could it be the research that Fera was working on, the one he was trying to steal from her in the dream?_

"You seem to be in deep thought," Dumbledore said softly, reminding her of his presence.

Trying to play off mayhem of thoughts that were storming around in her mind, she instead deflected as best she could. "I am…confused. I am trying to find answers, but every time I answer one question, another comes up that leaves me baffled, and it is frustrating."

The headmaster's eyes crinkled in soft laughter. "I can sympathize with that feeling well enough." Standing up to walk to the young Gryffindor's side, he grabbed her covered hand. When she went to tug it back, he stopped her.

"Do not worry, Miss Granger, I have no need to steal your secrets. Keep them close, they're important."

"Are they?" Hermione asked, hoping beyond hope that the Headmaster could shed some light on her situation. "Even if they might be dangerous or evil?"

Dumbledore tenderly placed her hand back in her lap with a smile. "Miss Granger, I doubt any secret you hold could ever be considered evil or dangerous to the ones you love. Do they feel evil?"

Hermione bit her lip. "No, they don't, but I don't understand them either way."

"Hm," the headmaster hummed, "what is misunderstood is often mistaken for what is evil, but that is not always the case. In fact, I would argue, in most cases, it is the exact opposite."

Hermione looked down at her covered hand, at once relieved and anxious. She was hoping that she was interpreting what the headmaster was saying correctly. If she was, then the mystery of this tattoo was only just the beginning. But at least she now knew that she hadn't been cursed or anything bad. Even if Professor Dumbledore hadn't said it out right, he hinted at it, and that was good enough for her. She trusted the wizard beyond a shadow of a doubt.

And to top it off, he had given her a place to start her own research. She now had a name to go with the face that had haunted her for so long and a possible explanation for the room that she was taken to last night.

Grabbing her bag, she stood up to go, eager to get started in the library. "Thank you, headmaster, this has been very enlightening."

"Indeed, it has, but a word of advice before you go? If I may?" Dumbledore called out to her before she could leave.

"Of course, Headmaster," Hermione responded, turning back.

"There comes a time in life when you are presented with a rare opportunity to do good. Should you ever find yourself in such a position, I would hope that you take it. You never know, you might find not only the answers to your questions, but the solution to an even graver problem," he said calmly, his eyes steadily watching her.

A wave of understanding passed between headmaster and student, and Hermione suddenly realized that whatever was happening to her was bigger than she had originally thought. "Thank you, sir. If that moment should come, I'll remember your words."

Dumbledore smiled, his wise eyes twinkling with secrets. "Then I wish you good luck, Miss Granger."

Nodding, Hermione left.

* * *

**A/N: I do love Dumbledore and his mysterious ways. You probably can't sneeze within that castle without him somehow knowing about it and showing up around the corner with a Kleenex. And of course then he would walk away after saying something very cryptic and ominous about your bed sheets-but then again, everyone needs a hobby.**

**And now, thanks to McGonagall's Bola, the latin has been fixed so it actually makes sense and is no longer talking about bread. It now basically means: 'Blood lover, break the seal. The Master has forgotten to lift the curse. Now, be the protecter of the door.'**

**And of course, don't forget to review!**


	6. Cunning Escapes and Dark Connections

**(Disclaimer: See beginning)**

**Hello again! First and foremost thank you, everyone who took the time to review and for those of you who favorited or followed this story. The love is very much appreciated.**

* * *

Chapter 5

After her talk with the headmaster, Hermione was feeling a thousand times better. She wasn't cursed, and the dream woman was not a figment of her imagination. And on top of all that, she now had a starting point for solving this mystery with the room and the book. Her plans for this break were looking brighter already, and she couldn't wait until she got to the library to start her research.

She was already starting to turn down the hall in the direction of the library when she remembered that her friends were waiting for her, probably still on edge from this morning. She wouldn't be surprised if they were pulling out their hair in worry by now. Sighing, the witch turned around and made her way towards the Great Hall where she knew Ron would've dragged Harry and Ginny after the 'exhausting' amount of work he had done in the gardens.

The Great Hall was practically empty by the time Hermione got there. There were only a few breakfast stranglers still lingering about, so the Hall was unusually quiet. Only the odd click of silverware and quiet mummers could be heard. Most of the food had already disappeared as well. What was left were small items that could easily be taken on the go, like bagels, muffins, and fruit.

She checked the time. _11:15, no wonder no one's here anymore. Everyone's probably down at the Hogwarts Express by now._

"Hermione!" Ron called, waving his hand in the air to catch her attention. His other hand, preoccupied with a blueberry muffin, brought the bakery item up to his mouth for another bite.

Hermione rolled her eyes, quickly making her way over to the nearly empty Gryffindor table, and took a seat by Harry and Neville. Just as she suspected, her three friends were practically vibrating in their seats, waiting for her arrival.

"Hi, Hermione, ready for break?" Neville asked from behind the morning's Daily Prophet.

"Yes, I'm staying here, actually, to catch up on my work," Hermione said as she grabbed a piece of toast and buttered it. Ginny, sitting across from her, caught her eye and impatiently motioned towards her covered hand in a silent question.

Harry and Ron turned to Hermione as well, watching her expectantly. Harry especially looked like he was about to explode, waiting to hear about what Dumbledore had said.

Looking around the Hall at the few students who were still hanging around, Hermione shook her head, mouthing to them, _later_. Just because the students that were around seemed like they were preoccupied in their own conversations didn't mean that they wouldn't overhear something she said. Besides, Neville was right there next to them and would hear anything they said. And as much as she trusted the awkward young wizard, she wasn't sure if she wanted anyone else to know what was going on with her.

Harry, not looking too pleased but resigned to wait, nodded at her in understanding. Ron and Ginny grimaced before turning back to their plates.

Beside her, Neville gave a weak laugh. "Hermione, what kind of work do _you_ need to catch up on?"

Hermione grinned around her toast. "Oh, you know, just some extra credit assignments that I'm doing in preparation for my NEWTS."

"Always doing extra work," Neville said good-naturedly, while folding his paper up.

Catching something in the headlines, Hermione stopped him by grabbing his sleeve. Pointing to the front of the paper, she asked, "What is it saying about the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

The mood at the table turned somber. With a disheartened sigh, Neville slowly opened his paper again and placed it in front of Hermione to read. "Susan's Aunt and Uncle were attacked last night by…"Neville looked around the room before lowering his voice in a secretive whisper, "Death Eaters."

"Oh, no…" Hermione clenched at the paper, her eyes flying over the article taking it in.

**War on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?**

**Highly respected Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and member of the Wizengamot, Amelia Bones, was attacked last night around one in the morning by three assailants while she and her husband (Richard Bones) were staying at a local wizarding hotel in Limerick, Ireland. The attackers forcibly entered their suite, barely giving the Head of Law Enforcement enough time to summon help. **

**Aurors appeared at their rooms shortly after but not before the attackers were able to flee the scene. Mr. and Mrs. Bones were immediately flooed to St. Mungos for care, where Mrs. Bones is still being held in critical condition. Mr. Bones unfortunately died within ten minutes of his stay. **

**Though the identity of the dark wizards were hidden thanks to their hooded robes, a Dark Mark was left above the hotel, leaving very little doubt to this reporter that the attack was the responsibility of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters.**

**So what could this mean for other Ministry officials or members of the Wizengamot? Will You-Know-Who begin attacking other important figureheads within the Ministry? **

**For more on the Bones attack and other Ministry disappearances, turn to page 8. **

Hermione closed the paper carefully, handing it back to Neville. "Poor Susan…"

"I know," Ginny agreed pushing her plate away, no longer hungry. "First You-Know-Who kills nearly her entire family, including her parents, in the first war, and now he's trying to take the only family she has left."

Hermione turned to Neville. "Do you know how she's holding up?"

"Not good, I'm afraid."

Ron threw down the rest of his muffin. "Well, can you blame her? All she's got left now is her aunt and her cousin. And they're not even sure if her aunt's going to make it."

"I wonder if she already left for break," Ginny said. "You know, to see her aunt."

Neville tossed the newspaper aside. "A couple of Ministry officials arrived around five, to pick her up and take her to see her aunt."

Harry, surprised, looked to Neville. "How do you know that?"

Neville shrugged sheepishly. He fidgeted with his shirt. "Well, you know, she's really close with Hannah Abott and I heard about it when I was talking to Hannah this morning." A blush crept onto Neville's cheeks, signaling that more might have occurred between him and the quiet Hufflepuff than just a friendly conversation.

Hermione shared a knowing smile with Ginny, before standing up to leave. "Come on guys, you have to get to the train, before it leaves. You only have," she looked at her wristwatch, "twenty minutes before it leaves."

Harry, Ginny and Ron stood up to follow her, gathering their bags.

"It's no sweat, Hermione," Ron reassured her, "we already brought our bags down earlier this morning."

"Wow, I'm impressed. You're actually prepared," Hermione teased, playfully hitting him on the shoulder. She turned back to Neville, who was getting ready to leave as well. "Are you coming, Neville?"

"In a minute. I need to stop by Professor Sprout's office before I leave."

"Well, I'll see you later, and if you hear from Susan, let her know that we're here for her if she needs anything," Hermione said with a gentle smile. Neville gave a grateful nod.

The five Gryffindor students parted ways once they left the Great Hall, Neville heading towards the Herbology classroom and Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Harry heading towards the train.

Walking down to the platform, the four friends stopped a few feet away from the train and the students that were waiting around in front of it. Harry grabbed Hermione's arm, whispering a quick _muffliato_ around them to keep the nosier students out of their conversation.

"Alright, Hermione, we've waited patiently enough. What's going on and what did Dumbledore say?" Harry asked, still hanging onto the witch's arm.

"It can't be bad, right? I mean, otherwise you wouldn't be so calm about everything, or keeping us on pins and needles," Ginny added, her arms crossed. Ron, who must have come to the same conclusion, stood by his friend, staying surprisingly quiet.

Hermione gently removed Harry's hand. "It's Professor Dumbledore, Harry."

"Hermione! Come on!" Harry growled, exasperated. He was growing grey hairs from worrying and couldn't care less about proper titles at the moment.

"It's alright! Calm down Harry. I promise you I'm not in any danger." She answered him. "I'm not cursed, or hexed or anything like that."

Her friends gave a collective sigh of relief, and Harry gave her an apologetic smile.

"Good, that's good," he said.

"So, did he say what the tattoo could mean then?" Ginny asked.

Hermione shook her head no. "He didn't, but he did suggest that it could probably help."

Ron looked confused. "Help? What's it supposed to be helping with?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I think he was trying to tell me that it could help with the war. You know, help Harry against Voldemort." She explained, ignoring Ron who cringed at the dark wizard's name.

"Are you serious?" Harry said with a wide smile, obviously happy that they might finally have a lead on how he was supposed to defeat the most feared wizard of their time.

Ginny, however, looked skeptical. "How is a tattoo supposed to help against You-Know-Who?"

Hermione just shrugged. She hadn't figured it out either, but she would. "I don't know," she admitted. "But Professor Dumbledore gave me a lead and I'll be looking for the answers in the library over the break."

"Do you need help? We can stay," Harry asked, more than ready to give up his break if it meant getting closer to ending this war.

Ron, who looked less enthusiastic at the prospect of spending his break surrounded by books, nevertheless agreed as well.

"Not at the moment, but I might have to look through the Black's library as well. Is that okay, Harry?" Hermione replied, her mind already formulating a research plan for the week.

"Of course, just let me know," Harry quickly agreed.

In the distance the whistle for the train blew signaling that it was time to leave. Harry dropped the silencing charm around them, and the four of them rushed to the train with the other students.

Harry pulled Hermione into a hug, whispering in her ear. "Just make sure you contact me, if anything goes wrong or if you need me. You don't need to do this alone."

"I will," Hermione swore before stepping back and giving both Ron and Ginny a hug as well.

"I'm going to hold you to your promise, Hermione," Harry warned seriously.

"Yes, yes. I heard you the first time. I'll write you the first chance I get. Now go get on the train before it leaves without you," Hermione said, shooing them away.

Hermione stood off to the sides, with the few students who were staying at Hogwarts over the break, watching her friends as they got in line to board the train.

"Watch it, Granger!" a voice snapped behind her, barely giving her enough time to move out of the way as a body pushed past her, bumping into her shoulder. Draco turned around, sending a nasty sneer her way before heading towards the crowd in front of the train.

"Hey!" she cried, rubbing her shoulder, glaring at the blonde Slytherin, as he used his two block-headed body guards to shove his way to the front of the line and onto the train.

"What an arse," Hermione muttered, turning around and starting the trek back to Hogwarts by herself.

* * *

Draco was staring out of the window, tired and stressed, when his stalkers (as he liked to refer to them as) came sauntering into his compartment. Crabbe and Goyle took their regular spots across from him, their laps already littered with junk food from the trolley. Pansy, for once, wasn't close on their heels and vying to claim the seat beside him. Though Draco doubted if she ever would want to sit with him again after their argument. Actually to call it an argument would be a stretch. It had been more like him throwing insult after insult at her in hopes of finally shaking the girl off of him.

By the end of it, he had been the picture of Pureblood arrogance and she…she had been tear-stained and heartbroken. And that tore at him worse than any punishment his father had ever dished out on him. She had grown up with him, had been his confidant, one of the few people in Slytherin house that he knew he could trust, and he had hurt their friendship beyond repair. He had ruined everything, shattered it all to pieces, and now he couldn't get the image of her eyes, puffy and haunted, out of his mind.

His one consolation was that now she would be safe. The Parkinsons had been smart. When Voldemort had first risen, they had kept to the sidelines, their heads down. They passed along money and collected information from the Ministry for Voldemort like good little Purebloods but kept themselves away from the Dark Mark and off the Dark Lord's radar. Whether that was to keep their noses clean or because they didn't really support the twisted wizard's vision, Draco didn't know. His money was on the latter, though. Pansy had always been different. Haughty and ambitious like any Pureblood but…somehow lighter than the other girls.

_And I'm going to make sure it stays that way_, he promised himself. He would protect her even from himself, because it was only a matter of time before his father decided that she was the perfect "incentive" to make him take the Dark Mark. And then she would die. Even if he followed his father's orders to a T, he would kill her anyway, because she was a perceived weakness. And he wouldn't allow his son to have a weakness.

Images of Pansy's broken, lifeless body flashed through his mind, causing him to grit his teeth.

_No! _He squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden mental image. He would keep her at arms length and make sure his father knew that she meant nothing to him. His heart twisted at the thought, but he ignored it. He had to.

For now, he had another dilemma to fix. Since Pansy was out of the picture he couldn't very well spend the break at her house, and he sure as fuck wasn't spending it at his place. His father would be there. Draco's fist clenched crinkling the letter his mother had sent him that morning in his hand. He straightened it out, reading it for the fifth time that day.

_Draco, _

_How are you my dear? I trust that you are doing well in school. Your father and I will send a house elf to retrieve you from the train station. You'll be glad to hear that your father has taken the week off as well and wishes to make a proper vacation of it. Please inform me if you've made other plans. You know I am not overly fond of surprises. _

_All my love, _

_Your mother_

It was short and to the point and to the casual observer it would seem like any other ordinary letter from a mother to a son. Draco knew better. In between the lines he could make out the true message. His father would be around and he was sure to make son's life a living hell if he didn't find another place to stay.

So he had approximately─he checked his pocket watch─three hours to make plans to go out of the country. It didn't even cross Draco's mind to try and bear his father's company for the week and hope for the best. He wasn't a brainless Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake, willing to 'tough it out' for the good of his family. All the while praying that his father would have an epiphany and suddenly realize the error of his ways. He snorted, _yeah like that will happen._

No, he wasn't an idiot or a masochist, so if he could avoid it, he would.

Besides the minute he had read the letter, he had sent an immediate owl to his mother that morning telling her that, **no,** he would unfortunately not be around because of prior plans. Now he just had to go out and make said plans.

Crabbe and Goyle were out. They might be dedicated guard dogs, but Draco knew the people holding their leashes were their fathers and not him. If he went over to any of their places, even those outside the country, their fathers, and by extension his father, who had them under his thumb, wouldn't be far behind. In fact it would probably be for the best if he chose someone who wasn't in a family of Death Eaters, which took out half of Slytherin house already.

Draco got up from his seat, waving off Crabbe and Goyle, who attempted to follow him, and strolled down the narrow aisle to peek into the other compartments. As he passed by his fellow Slytherins he was mentally crossing off names and quickly getting frustrated.

_No, her uncle is a Death Eater and owes father too many favors. He won't do either. His father is friends with my father. Oh, she might work_─_wait, damn! I broke up with her a month ago, and she's still pretty miffed. The Bolson's boy might work…except their manor's too close to Aunt Bella's. Merlin's balls! Is there no one available?_

Just as Draco was about to give up and do something drastic, like buy a cottage in a Muggle village─he shuddered at the thought─he caught the tail end of conversation within one of the compartments. He backed away from the door so neither occupant could see him.

"I'm rather disappointed myself," Blaise Zabini said, leaning back into his seat casually. "I was hoping to get out of the country, probably go to Paris for a bit, but my mother is off in Australia and wasn't ecstatic about me traveling alone."

Across from him, Ignis Cornfoot, another sixth year Slytherin, was nodding along. "Hmm, I'm sure I can convince my parents to let us use their vacation house in Orleans. We'll get a couple other people and then you can tell your mother that you'll be traveling with a group. I might even be able to persuade my brother, Fortissimus, to accompany us. That way you can even tell her we'll have an adult with us and all that."

"That might work. I'll send off a letter to her when I get home. How many people are you thinking off?" Blaise asked.

Ignis paused to think about it. "The house is one of our smaller ones, only seven bedrooms, so four other people should be fine. I was talking to the Carrow twins earlier, and they had no plans."

Draco smiled to himself, inwardly shouting in triumph. What luck! Not only were the Zabinis and Cornfoots unaffiliated with the Dark Lord but Orleans was just far enough away to keep his father at bay. It was the perfect solution. It also didn't hurt that Draco counted Blaise as one of his few real friends in the school.

Sure, there were a few supporters in the Cornfoot family, and the Carrow twins were the cousins of the Death Eaters Alecto and Amycus Carrow, but he could deal with that. Hestia and Flora were thankfully nothing like their sick relatives.

Straightening himself, Draco pulled out a candy bar as he walked by the compartment, making just enough noise to catch the boys' attention without seeming like he had been eavesdropping.

Blaise saw him first and nudged Ignis with his elbow while whispering "How about it?" At Ignis' approving nod, he called out to the blonde wizard before he could get away. "Draco! Can you spare a minute?"

Draco waited two seconds to make sure he didn't seem too eager then stepped back towards the compartment. He took a bite out of his bar, and put on a face of calm curiosity. "What's up?" he asked, taking a seat.

"What are you doing for break?" Ignis asked.

If it weren't so undignified, Draco would have given into temptation and danced with glee. He was going to get away!

Keeping his voice level, he shrugged and answered, "Don't know yet. I didn't really make any plans, so I'll probably just hang around the manor. Why?"

Blaise leaned forward slightly. "Ignis has a place in Orleans. We were thinking about staying there for the week so we could travel back and forth to Paris. Do you want to come?"

Draco hesitated long enough to seem as if he needed to think it over. "Who's coming?" he asked as if it really mattered to him. They could bring along a horde of goblins, and he still wouldn't give two shits.

"We're going to ask the Carrow sisters and probably Castor Fawley. I heard his parents decided to go to Germany last minute." This came from Ignis.

"Well, alright then, what time are we leaving?"

"How's eight o'clock? We'll meet at my place, since Blaise's mother is away. Sound good?"

_Eight o'clock, so I'll have six hours to kill before I can show up at Cornfoot's place. Hmm…maybe I'll rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron and stay low. _

Draco got up to leave. "Alright then, I'll see you guys then. I'm going to see if the trolley is still out." He waved goodbye to them and headed back to his compartment, no longer able to hide his smirk. His plan had worked, and he could now successfully avoid his father. He walked down the cramped aisle with an extra swagger in his step. _Damn, I'm good!_

* * *

On the other side of the train, pressed into a corner, Harry Potter was doing his very best to wake up. Trapped in his own personal hell, he didn't respond to the hand shaking his shoulder or the soft pleas of "Harry, wake up!" Instead, he tossed and turned as he was forced to watch the events of his dream play out.

_He was in a dark room, the sounds and images distorted as if he were underwater. He could make out enough details to see a small man hunched over in a chair towards the very center of the room. The man's once sophisticated tweed suit was now in tatters and stained with blood. Ropes bound his legs and arms to the chair so tightly that the man struggled to breathe. His fingers and toes were already turning a painful blue as the blood fought to get to the abandoned digits. His head, battered and bloodied like the rest of his body, hung in defeat. _

_ Off to the side of the room, was another man dressed in a black suit, with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, exposing tan arms caked with dried blood. Harry could not see the Dark Mark on his left arm_─_covered as it was with blood_─_but the sadistic glint in his eye was enough to tell him that the second man was definitely a Death Eater. _

_ The unnamed Death Eater slowly approached his victim, a strange medieval metal contraption in his hand. Gently as if he were caressing a lover's cheek, the Death Eater ran the device across the small man's face, causing him to squeak in terror. The deatheater smiled at the sound. _

_ "Tsk, tsk, Addleby, you're not giving me the answers that I want to hear. How very naughty of you," he crooned with a twisted smile. "That's okay, I'm very fair, you know, so I'll give you one last chance to answer me, now_─"

_ He was cut off as the door to the room creaked open. "How issss our guesst Deimosss?" Voldemort hissed in a faint whisper as he swept into the room. One clawed nail lifted their prisoner's chin. A whimper escaped the frightened man as he looked upon the face of the most dangerous dark wizard in the world through his one good eye. _

_ Satisfied with what he saw, Voldemort let his face drop again before turning to his follower. "Leave us. I wish to speak to Addleby alone." _

_ The Death Eater looked like he wanted to protest for a second, but thought better of it, bowed to his master and left the room, closing the door behind him._

_ Finally alone, Voldemort circled his prey. "You have sssomething that I want. Do you know what it isss?"_

_ The man shook his head, sputtering his response. "He said that you wanted to know about one of the employees, something about her tattoo…but I never really looked. I don't know what you're talking about! I_─_I swear!"_

_ "Silence!" Voldemort's voice cut through the man's babble. "I will have my answers…Legilimens!" _

_ A cry of agony was torn from the man as his mind was smashed open from the Dark Lord's perusal. His body did not react well to the brutal invasion and began convulsing mere minutes into Voldemort's explorations. Blood leaked from his eyes and ears as his body jolted one last time before finally laying still. His eyes glassed over into dull lifelessness. _

_ Voldemort stepped back, expecting the body with little interest. "Well, well, Addleby," he spoke to the corpse as if the man were still alive to hear him. "It would appear that you were ssspeaking the truth." Turning from the body, he looked down fondly as his snake, Nagini slithered towards the body hissing in pleasure. Her reptilian eyes looked towards her master in question. "Yesss Nagini, I have no further need of him. Enjoy your sssnack."_

As Voldemort exited the room, Harry was, at last, able to tear himself away from the dream, and with a gasp he was awake.

"Harry!" Deep brown eyes looked at him with concern. Ginny sat back, and released his shoulder so he could sit up in his seat. "Harry…are you okay? You were mumbling a lot and kept tossing around."

Harry ran his hand over his face to sweep the sleep away. "Yeah…I'm fine, Gin, just a nightmare."

Ron, sitting across from him, looked at his friend with concern. "Like a regular nightmare, or one of those, you know, other nightmares?"

Not yet ready to admit that he was actually experiences _those_ kinds of nightmares again, Harry responded, "No, just regular ones. The Ministry one again." The others in the compartment nodded in understanding. They were all too familiar with the subconscious damage that was created after their battle at the Ministry. It wasn't every day that you looked a ruthless murderer in the eye while they drew their wand on you. It was bound to leave some deep-rooted scars. And by the haunted looks in his friends' eyes, Harry knew that it, in fact, did.

A twinge of guilt wormed its way into his mind at his blatant lie. A part of him wanted to open up and share with his friends the weird dreams that he was living through. They would understand, just as they had understood when he'd suffered through them in his fourth and fifth year, but he didn't want to worry them needlessly. These dreams were different from his other nightmares. The ones from before had been sharp, detailed and had occurred as if he were seeing through Voldemort's eyes, living his life as if he and the Dark Lord were the same being. These dreams, however, they were fogged over, blurry and played out as if Harry were in the room _with_ Voldemort.

He convinced himself that they were just different enough to mean that he wasn't in danger of his mind being taken over. That he didn't need to talk about it because Voldemort couldn't stand being around his love for others and wouldn't attempt to breach his boundaries again, just as Dumbledore had suggested.

For now, he felt he was safe and really, there was no point riling up the Order when nothing could be done anyway. It wasn't as if Snape would offer to teach him Occlumency again, even if he did need lessons─of which he was eternally grateful.

And God, how he was tired of the looks that everyone gave him whenever Voldemort was mentioned around him. It was a look of pity and slight distrust, which he could understand, since he was mentally connected to a monster, but it stung all the same. It wasn't like he asked for any of this.

So he decided to hold his tongue for now, even knowing that it wasn't the most responsible choice, but he was so tired from all the Voldemort shit happening around him that he just couldn't sum up the energy to care. He was okay with wallowing in his misery for just a little bit longer. He turned back to his friends, his mood effectively dampened.

"And Papa says that it's only a matter of time before the Purple Spotted Callimies will be comfortable enough in our presence to come out of hiding. They're wonderfully resourceful creatures you know." Luna's voice was calmly reflective, and she didn't seem at all bothered that her audience was less than captivated by her story. "I believe we'll be spending our vacation studying them."

"But how are you going study them if they won't come out of hiding?" Neville asked.

"With a flute, of course," Luna responded as if it were the simplest answer in the world. When she didn't try to explain what she meant the conversation turned towards what the others were going to do during their break.

"Well," Neville began, "I'm obviously going to visit my parents but I'm also going to spend most of my time in my gardens. The Horn Snappers that I've been experimenting on have started exploding irregularly. We recently lost Selia, one of gran's cats to them."

Several eyebrows rose in surprise. "Um, Neville," Ron asked, "Why are you trying to create exploding flowers?"

Neville blushed and tried to correct himself, "No, no. I'm not trying to create an exploding flower or anything. The Horn Snapper takes at least ten years to mature before it can be harvested, so I'm trying to speed up the maturation process so that it only takes a year instead. It's a project that I started with Professor Sprout in my fourth year. We actually got it down to a two-year time frame, but for some reason, every time one of the buds blossoms, it immediately explodes."

"Wow," Harry remarked, determined to focus on his friend's conversation. "That's some plant."

"Yes, it's been a cool project. Professor Sprout already suggested that we continue it after my graduation," Neville said with a hint of pride, then deflated a little at his next comment. "I just wish they didn't explode all the time. Herbology was the one subject I managed not to bung up completely, and now my plants are catching on fire more than my cauldrons are in Potions."

Luna placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I imagine that they are very pretty fires, though." The comment, so out of place, seemed to lighten Neville's spirits considerably. The blonde witch then turned to Ron, Ginny and Harry. "So what are you three going to do for the break? Will you be staying with the Weasleys again Harry?"

Harry happily affirmed. Since the Dursleys wanted to see as little of him as possible throughout the school year, or, well, the whole year really, he never went back there (he had a hard time calling that place home) during breaks. He was perfectly happy to stay at the castle instead. This break, however, Mrs. Weasley had extended an invitation to him and he had eagerly accepted.

Ginny answered Luna with a shrug, "Quidditch practice mostly. It'll be just me, Ron and Harry at the house now that the twins have got their own place."

"Ah, yes," Ron sighed in happiness, "the twins will be out of our hair. No more late night bathroom pranks, no more checking my food to see if there's anything in it, no more ducking out of the way when a Bludger is released in the house. Life will be good."

"I wouldn't get too happy yet, Ron. You know they like to visit for dinner. I doubt you'll really get any peace at all," Ginny reminded him.

"Thanks for dashing all my hopes." Ron slumped down in his seat pouting.

"Not a problem, Ron," Ginny answered cheerfully, causing the others to chuckle.

Conversation returned to normal after that, and Harry found himself looking out of the window, his mind straying back to his dreams again. His mood declined rapidly as he tried not to think about the implications of the dream or about anything really. He didn't want to think anymore, he wanted to be like his friends. He wanted to laugh freely without knowing in the back of his head that he had to fight a psychopath one day. He didn't want to think about how the entire wizarding world was looking at him in anticipation. He didn't want to hear about more Muggles getting kidnapped or wizards disappearing. He just wanted to forget it all. Shake his mind like an etch-a-sketch and start all over.

He pressed his forehead against the cool windowpane and sighed. God, he was tired.

* * *

**A/N:**** So if you wondering about Harry still being connected to Voldemort, well…I know that Rowling said that Voldemort stayed out of Harry's head after Ootp, but she never said anything about their connection and whether it was completely closed after that. I personally don't think it would be. For one, it's a living piece of soul that's stuck in Harry, how do you just shut that off? On top of that, Harry was accidently getting into Voldemort's head for a while before the man even realized it, so wouldn't there be accidental peeks still going on? And lastly, even if it hurt Voldemort to be in Harry's head, I don't see that as a good enough reason for him to completely shut the connection down. If I was an evil, tyrannical monster bent on world domination, I would totally put up with a little pain, to screw with my enemies head and corrupt him.-Just sayin'. **

**Either way, for this story, that connection will still be open and cant be thwarted by the power of love-sorry Dumbledore, but its not going to work for everything. **

**Anywho…Tell me what you think! Thanks for reading!**


	7. Saving Lives and Delirious Confessions

**I have officially graduated from college! Yay! Which is great all around, because now I'll have more time to work on this story (well aside from work and all that-but its still more time). I should be able to post every Friday/Saturday now, and I'll definitely do my best to stay on that schedule.**

**As always I want to thank everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed for story-especially those who reviewed. Seriously, reviews are like my bread and butter and make me so happy when I read them.**

**(Disclaimer: see beginning)**

* * *

**Recap:**

**_Harry didn't want to think anymore, he wanted to be like his friends. He wanted to laugh freely without knowing in the back of his head that he had to fight a psychopath one day. He didn't want to think about how the entire wizarding world was looking at him in anticipation. He didn't want to hear about more muggles getting kidnapped or wizards disappearing. He just wanted to forget it all. Shake his mind like an etch-a-sketch and start all over._**

**_He pressed his forehead against the cool windowpane and sighed. God, he was tired._**

* * *

Chapter 6

Nestled at a secluded table in Hogwarts' library, Hermione was pouring over anything she could find that made even the smallest mention of Fera Rosier. Books, school records and old newspaper clippings, surrounded her. Beside her, one of her old notebooks was opened with a list of information on the mystery woman steadily growing and filling up the pages.

Setting down her quill, Hermione moved to pick up another document from the school records, this one pertaining to NEWTs scores from 1796, the year Fera would have been a seventh year student. Hermione's eyes moved down the list of names until she came across Fera's and blinked, not quite believing what she was seeing. _Eleven subjects! How on earth did she manage to take eleven NEWT level courses?_

Gripping the paper, she read the list out loud. "Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Astronomy, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, History of Magic and Alchemy─Blimey, what didn't she take when she was in school?" Hermione muttered.

The Gryffindor was taking nine classes herself for the NEWTs, and that was considered extreme. Though, she shouldn't be that surprised with Fera's academic ambitions. She was a Slytherin and they were known to be an ambitious sort. Plus, Professor Dumbledore, himself, had referred to her as a wizarding prodigy, and looking at the projects the witch took on while doing her apprenticeships as well, just confirmed his praise.

_This woman was absolutely brilliant_, Hermione sighed. _It's too bad there are no portraits of her at the school. I would have loved to talk to her._

Putting down the school records, she looked back at her notebook. Her list of Fera's accomplishments was quite impressive and filled several pages. She even had notes on Fera's parents, which was less impressive, content wise. However, for all her notes on Fera Rosier and her family, Hermione could not find one thing about the mysterious project Fera had been working on before her disappearance. Nothing, nada, zilch. It was like the project hadn't even existed.

_Then why would Professor Dumbledore bring it up?_

No, it had to exist, and somewhere among all these books and papers there was information on it just waiting for her to explore. She just had to find it first.

Sighing in frustration, the young witch sat back in her chair to look out one of the nearby windows. The sky had darkened considerably and the moon was now the only light source hanging in the clouds. She had been in the library for hours. How long exactly─she couldn't tell, but it was long enough. _I think I got far enough today_.

Packing up her books, and documents, she waved goodbye to Madam Pince and headed back to her dorm.

* * *

Peacefully strolling down the hallways, she let her fingers graze the castle's stone wall as she let her mind wander back to her mission and her dreams. The two had to be connected in some way since a "breakthrough" and "research" were mentioned multiple times during her dream. So, she could only assume that it had to do with Fera's final project.

That got Hermione thinking. Fera's father kept mentioning in the dream that his daughter's research had been promising and from what information Hermione could get on the man, she wasn't sure that was a good thing. If anyone could be the epitome of Pureblood arrogance and prejudice, it was Colten Rosier, who made Lucius Malfoy seem like a harmless puppy. From all accounts, the man absolutely detested Muggle-borns and Muggles. Hermione had even read some reports where he was arrested several times after he was caught kidnapping and torturing several Muggle families for his "experiments". Of course, the arrests had gone nowhere thanks to his Pureblood connections and his family's' fortune, but his crimes were still recorded. The man was absolutely horrible!

Knowing all this, Hermione had to ask herself, what kind of research would a Muggle-hating dark wizard find promising? And what did that say about Fera? Though, admittedly, Fera didn't seem as excited about the research as her father in the dream, nor did she seem malicious. And if Professor Dumbledore were to be believed, she was nothing more than a bright young woman with a lot of potential to do good. So maybe Fera's research wasn't necessarily bad, just something that Colten could easily manipulate to become evil. Sort of like how the _Dolorum Parma_ potion was originally meant to be a healing potion but was later modified by Ignis the Cruel to be used as a dark potion for torture.

Hermione grimaced. Her thoughts were running in circles now, and she still had no clue what this potentially dangerous research could be about. Leaning back up against a stone pillar, she let out an exasperated breath.

_If I didn't like challenges so much, I'd probably be ripping my hair out over this entire affair, _she chuckled to herself, wearily turning her head to rest her cheek against the cool surface of the pillar. She was just closing her eyes to soak up the peaceful moment when a groan echoed through the hall.

"What on earth?" Hermione straightened up, quickly looking both ways down the hall for the source of the noise. A small movement by the front entrance doors caught her attention, and she moved closer to get a better look. Squinting her eyes, she could just make out the outline of a body collapsed on the ground.

_Oh, no! Someone's hurt!_ With wide panicked eyes, she took out her wand and ran to the person, quickly coming upon their cloak-covered body. With a soft, "lumos," she knelt beside them, gently pulling the cloak away and gasped. Hogwarts's own Potions master was lying prone on the floor, a pool of blood forming beneath him, and next to him_─Oh god_─was Susan Bones, unconscious and pale.

Scrambling closer to the two and taking in their condition, Hermione already knew that she was out of her league. She could offer a few healing spells to keep them alive, but what they really needed was professional help. Casting her Patronus, she sent a message to Madame Pomfrey, alerting her to the situation and where they were. Then she remembered what Harry had said about the mediwitch leaving for vacation and quickly sent a second message to the headmaster, hoping he was at least around. Quite frankly, she didn't care who came to help, just as long as someone did and soon!

She looked back at her professor and fellow classmate. From what she could tell, Susan didn't seem too bad. At least Hermione couldn't see any obvious signs of injury, but that didn't mean that the Hufflepuff hadn't been cursed. Professor Snape, on the other hand, looked as if he had one foot in death's door. His face was, if it was even possible, more pale than usual. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead and he was breathing harshly.

Making a snap decision, she decided to deal with the one who was bleeding out first. Casting a stronger lumos spell, she hovered over his body to see where the blood was coming from.

"Why the hell do you have to wear black!" she whispered, frantically searching his body. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

His body shifted. Hermione leaned in closer to his face. "Professor! Professor! Can you hear me? Please say something!"

Black eyes, rimmed with red, crept open and turned to her. He blinked a couple of times, as confusion clouded his face. "Sir, it's me, Hermione Granger. You're safe at Hogwarts." He grunted in reply, then made to sit up. With a firm hand on his shoulder, that she now realized was covered in blood, she kept him from moving.

"Please, sir, you can't move while you're injured. I sent for the headmaster, but I don't know when he'll be here."

Lifting his shoulder in a way Hermione was sure translated into, "get your goddamn hands off me", he turned away from her to push himself up anyway, hissing at the pain. With one final shove, he was up and resting against the stone wall.

_Why is this man trying to kill himself!_ Hermione looked at her professor whose eyes were closed again, with growing worry. Should she let him sleep? She remembered reading once that if a person was injured, they should try to stay conscious. Or was that just for people with concussions? _Oh, sod it!_ Grabbing his shoulder again she shook him lightly until his eyes were open. He looked rather displeased, but Hermione shouldered on.

_Displeased is good, dead or unresponsive is bad_. "Sir, could you tell me where the wound is? You're losing too much blood." He muttered something under his breath that she didn't catch. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

He glared at her. "Leave me the fuck alone, you stupid girl!" he growled in a weak, cracked voice. Hermione flinched back, removing her hand in hesitation. Perhaps she should just wait for the headmaster to get there. She watched a small shiver breeze through his body as his skin took on an ugly grayish tone.

Her instincts balked at the idea of not doing something─anything! _He won't make it if you leave him alone, girl, so get a grip! You're a Gryffindor! Besides what can he really do to you in his condition? _Gritting her teeth she grabbed his shoulder again and turned his body as much as she could, ignoring his weak protests. "I'll just find it on my own, if you won't help me."

Snape muttered something else, but she only caught, "bloody Gryffindors…" and a few more choice expletives that she chose to ignore.

Thankfully, Hermione didn't need to look far for the injury after she turned the professor over. The middle of his back was a gory mess of blood and ripped cloth. "Oh, God…". His back, his clothes, the wall he'd been leaning against, it was all covered in blood.

"Okay Hermione, you can do this. Just breathe." She took a deep breath. "And concentrate." Once she was relatively calm again, she began a small healing chant. Nothing that would completely heal his wound. If there was something in his system, she didn't want to seal it away in his body. The chant she was working instead was just to stop the bleeding.

She was still chanting when Madame Pomfrey, in her nightgown, came rushing down the hall with the headmaster and two stretchers floating behind her. _Thank God! They both came! _Hermione released a happy sigh, her wand still pointing at her professor's back.

"Oh, dear! Albus, you get Severus on this stretcher while I take care of Miss Bones," Madame Pomfrey ordered, snapping her wand out and levitating Susan carefully onto the stretcher. Professor Dumbledore did the same with the Potions master. Two House Elves popped in by his side to clean up the blood covering the floor and wall.

"Quickly now," Madam Pomfrey urged as the stretchers floated out of the dungeons. Not sure what to do with herself, Hermione hung back, biting her lip as she watched the group go. Was she allowed to follow them? She wanted to. If only to make sure that they would be okay. Glancing at the now empty, silent hallway, she decided to follow them anyway. Maybe if she kept quiet, no one would question her presence.

* * *

Getting the two to the infirmary was the easy part. With it being nearly midnight and with the castle being practically empty, they were able to run through the halls without having to worry about gawking eyes (aside from the portraits). The minute they crossed the threshold into the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey was barking out orders and running around the room grabbing equipment like a whirlwind. The matron threw a couple of potions to a surprised and bewildered Hermione and shoved her towards Susan's bed, with instructions on how to administer each potion. Then in another whirl, she was gone again grabbing more potions and cloths.

Hermione stumbled over to Susan, hands shaking as she poured a few teaspoons into a small porcelain cup. Madam Pomfrey continued rapidly issuing orders from the next bed, but no matter how hot her curiosity burned Hermione kept at her task. Professor Snape was in good hands, and Susan needed her right now. Pushing the bed up with a muttered spell, she put a hand behind Susan's neck to tilt her chin up, so that she could pour the medicine down the Hufflepuff's mouth. Massaging her throat to make sure every last drop went down, Hermione completed the process three more times until a flush crept its way back into Susan's cheeks. Just to make sure the young blonde was okay, Hermione also ran a diagnostic sweep. The tip of her wand came back green.

"Thank God," Hermione sat back into her chair, releasing a sigh of relief. Susan would be all right. She wasn't sure if the same thing could be said about her professor, though. Hermione got up from her seat to get a closer look at the other patient in the room.

Madam Pomfrey had already flipped him over, so he was face down on the bed, and sliced his robes open so she could get a better look at his back. The wound that Hermione had gotten a glimpse of, was actually a long curving gash that ran from his right shoulder down to the top of his left hip. Madam Pomfrey had somehow managed to clean it out and completely stop the bleeding, and was now viciously chanting it shut. Her eyes were shut in concentration, so she couldn't see Hermione edge closer to the bed.

The headmaster came to stand beside her, so he was out of the matron's way as well. "He will be okay, Miss Granger." The young Gryffindor turned her big brown eyes his way as she bit her lip. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." The headmaster's assuring tones helped to calm the anxiety that had slowly been climbing the second she caught a glimpse of the two in the hall. "Severus has a strong will. He and Miss Bones will pull through just fine. You did well tonight."

Hermione laughed, but there was no humor in it. "But was it enough? I feel like I should've done more."

"What you did was plenty, and more than some would know what to do. Without your discovery and help, it is possible that Hogwarts would be one Potions master short. Remember that." Patting Hermione on the shoulder in comfort, he left her, not knowing how hard his words hit home with the young witch. He walked over to Madam Pomfrey, who had finally finished her chanting, to have a final chat. She was wiping her hands on her apron, casting superstitious glances towards Snape while she whispered to Professor Dumbledore.

Hermione turned her back to give them more privacy, the headmaster's words echoing in her ears. _Hogwarts would be one Potions master short. _Looking at the man in question, still a little pale, in a white hospital gown and completely defenseless, caused her to blanch. _Professor Snape could have **died** tonight. _Her mind tried to wrap around that thought.

The sight of Snape lying on a hospital bed, recovering from an injury just seemed so _wrong._ He was Professor Snape, fiercest teacher in Hogwarts, spy for the Order, and ex Death Eater. He was supposed to be invincible, an unstoppable force of strength, cunning and experience. As Fred and George had once said, _he's too mean to die!_ And yet, here he was, unconscious and weak.

If this is what the war did to him, what would that mean for the rest of them who weren't as strong or resilient as him? So busy with her thoughts, Hermione nearly missed Madame Pomfrey calling for her attention.

"Miss Granger? Can you hear me?" the mediwitch asked again with tired eyes.

Taking a quick step back, Hermione turned to the older witch surprised. "Sorry, I was lost in thought. Did you need me for something Ma'am?" Hermione asked politely.

Pomfrey gave a relieved smile. "Yes, actually. The headmaster and I need to step out for a few minutes. Would you mind looking over Professor Snape while I'm out?"

"Oh, no! I don't mind at all," Hermione insisted, summoning her chair so she could sit.

"Wonderful!" Pomfrey smiled. "You shouldn't have to do anything. He'll most likely stay asleep, but if he does wake and is in pain, just give him two cap-fulls of this," the mediwitch handed her a Pain Relief potion. "Then he'll go back to sleep. I've checked over Miss Bones, and she'll be fine if left to rest, so you only have to worry about the professor. Understood?"

Hermione nodded, placing the potion on the nightstand, "I understand."

"Good," Pomfrey replied leaving with the headmaster after giving one last encouraging smile to the young witch. "I'll be back shortly," she called, and then she was gone.

"Well," Hermione said, still standing between the two sleeping patients, not quite sure what to do next.

* * *

It was only a couple hours later (in which Madam Pomfrey still had yet to return) when Professor Snape began to stir, his small grunt alerting Hermione. Springing to her feet and grabbing the pain potion, the witch twisted the cap off, ready to administer it at the first sign of pain.

"Professor?" she called softly, creeping closer to his bed.

Snape shifted again on the bed, mumbling, "no," under his breath. His sheet twisted underneath his tossing body.

"Professor, It's Hermione Granger," she began again, mindful of the other patient sleeping nearby. "Are you okay, sir? Are you in pain?"

"I don't…No, I don't want to…Stop," his mumbled words became clearer, though no more coherent. A pained frown pulled at his features, as he clutched at the pillow. His face flushed with heat, and his breathing becoming erratic as he thrashed on his bed. "Please! I can't…not her…" He whimpered in pain, and Hermione's heart clenched at the sound.

"I─I…Professor?" Hermione watched helplessly as Snape writhed in agony from his dream. Her fingers painfully gripped the potion bottle, as she silently watched, horrified and unsure. She wanted to help, needed to help, but she had no idea how. _Madame Pomfrey didn't tell me what to do in this kind of situation!_

Should she give him the pain potion anyway? Thrashing around as he was, he certainly didn't look comfortable. Or should she try to give him some Dreamless Sleep? But then, she didn't know if Madam Pomfrey had already given him some, and she didn't want to make him overdose. _What do I do?!_

Finally, Hermione decided to just wake him up. Then, at least he wouldn't have to deal with this horrid nightmare anymore. Putting the pain potion back on the nightstand, she grabbed his shoulder to gently shake her professor awake. "Sir, please wake up. It's just a nightmare…Professor─"

A hand shot out, snatching Hermione's wrist. She yelped in surprise, stumbling onto the bed. She looked up to see Snape's black eyes, though bleary from sleep and medicine, opened and focused on her.

"Um, Professor Snape, could you let go?" Hermione asked, trying to remain calm for both their sakes. "Do you─you need any pain potion?" she asked, placing the back of her hand on his forehead. "You're burning up, maybe I should get you something to bring your temperature down."

"Brown," his hoarse voice whispered in response. His eyes drooped sluggishly as he tried to get up.

"No! Stay where you are, please," Hermione pleaded with him, pushing him back down onto the bed. "You can't be up yet."

He fell back onto his pillow, still staring at her in confusion. "Brown…" he whispered again.

"What's brown, Professor?" She asked, worried. _He must be delirious from the fever._

Snape shook his head. His clouded eyes, looked back at her. His brows pulled together, and he let out another pained whimper. "Her eyes…yours," he answered, looking at the young witch, pleading with her to understand. "Brown eyes…so young…."

Hermione had no answer to that, so instead she tried a different tactic. "Professor," she whispered, "I'm going to get you something so you can rest, but first, I need you to let go." She took his hand and gently tried to pry his fingers off her wrist, but he wouldn't budge. If anything he tightened his grip.

"No! Don't go," he whispered frantically, pulling her closer on the bed. "Don't go! You'll die if you go….Stay, please don't die…." His eyes became wild with his growing panic. His other hand fumbled to grab her, desperately trying to keep her there.

Immediately, Hermione stopped trying to pull away and settled on the bed. "Okay, I'm staying," she croaked, as tears began to gather in her eyes as she watched him struggle. She pushed his hair back from his face in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. "I'm not going to die. I'll stay right here, I promise."

Slowly, Snape calmed down, his grip gradually loosening once he was sure she would keep her word. He nodded, relaxed once more. "Don't want you to die…" his words trailed off.

Hermione stayed where she was, her hands clasped uncomfortably in Snape's, but not daring to move, even after the wizard drifted back to sleep. Instead she sat there, staring at her professor, fighting back tears and desperately trying to forget the pain that she had heard in his voice.

Her grip tightened, as she dropped her head down to rest on their hands. She wasn't sure how to process what had just happened or what to even think about it.

_That's not true, you thought it was bloody horrible! h_er mind argued, even as she tried to shake the thoughts away. But it was the truth. What she had just seen, had been absolutely horrible. Seeing anyone in such a state, would leave her sad and uncomfortable, but seeing Snape in that state? She didn't know why, but it was ten times worse. She could feel her heart practically breaking.

What memories or dreams had he been reliving that he would become so unhinged, so desperate? Was it something from the war? It had to be. Why else would he be worried about her death? _Not your death, the person with the brown eyes' death. _And didn't that just bring up more questions.

Watching Snape sleeping peacefully now, she gave him a sad smile, and the tears began to finally spill down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry Professor."

"Miss Granger?" Madam Pomfrey's voice called out, as the older witch entered the infirmary.

Hermione clambered to her feet, quickly slipping her arm away from her professor and wiped at her face. Plastering on a fake smile, she rushed out to meet the mediwitch. "Hello, Madam Pomfrey."

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long. Was everything ok in here?" Pomfrey asked, her back turned to the Gryffindor as she pulled off her apron.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Yes, everything was─" _horrible, heart breaking, something I never want to witness again, _"─fine."

"Oh, good!" Madam Pomfrey turned around with a smile, which faded as she took in Hermione's puffy eyes and blotchy face. "My dear, are you alright?"

Hermione waved her hand, and let out a weak chuckle. "I'm fine, just fine. I'm just not used to all," she motioned behind her, "this. With the blood and everything."

"Hmm…yes, it can be very shocking," the mediwitch nodded in understanding. "Why don't you go to bed? A good night's rest will hopefully help you forget"

Hermione gave her a grateful smile, and began her walk back to Gryffindor tower, her mind still on her sleeping professor. _Somehow, I doubt I'll ever be able to forget tonight._

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**A/N: And that's it for now on the reposts-I promise!**

**As always, reviews are welcome. Love it? Hate it? -Tell me what you think**

**until the next chapter**


	8. Healing Patients and Chasing Gryffindors

**(Disclaimer: See Beginning)**

**Thank you everyone who reviewed or alerted this story! I love it! And of course thanks to my Betas, McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe**

* * *

_Recap:_

_"Hmm…yes, it can be very shocking," the mediwitch nodded in understanding. "Why don't you go to bed? A good night's rest will hopefully help you forget."_

_Hermione gave her a grateful smile, and began her walk back to Gryffindor Tower, her mind still on her sleeping professor. 'Somehow, I doubt I'll ever be able to forget tonight'._

* * *

Chapter 7

Despite having an overabundance of potions sloshing around in his stomach─half of which should have kept him happily sedated for a few more hours, Severus found himself waking up around his usual time in the morning. Ignoring the sharp pain in his back, he tried to latch onto the last trace of sleep, all the while knowing that it was a futile effort. He was awake.

Groaning in defeat, he gently propped himself up against his headboard and took in the room around him. He was back in his quarters, surprisingly, and even more shocking, Poppy wasn't hovering over him, prodding him with her wand. His wounds the other night must not have been as bad as he had thought they were, or maybe the House Elves had found him earlier than usual. Either way, it didn't matter. He was just glad to be surrounded by the welcoming silence of his room.

Sitting back with a sigh, he relaxed in the calming atmosphere away from nosy mediwitches and nattering old men. Maybe his luck would continue throughout the morning and he wouldn't be forced to endure anyone's company until later in the evening.

His mouth tugged down in a familiar frown as Albus' soft voice called out to him from the other room. _Then again, when has shit ever gone my way?_

Pulling his cover over his lap and straightening his posture in the most dignified manner he could muster, he called out to the headmaster sealing his doom. "I'm awake, Albus." _But please feel free to leave anyway._

Albus came through, closely followed by a House Elf who was carrying a small tray of tea and toast. The two waited until the Elf had placed the tray on a nightstand and disappeared with a pop before turning to each other.

"You're uncanny ability to always show up just as a I awaken, leaves me to wonder if you somehow managed to sneak a portrait in my room without my noticing it." Severus' eyes narrowed in accusation.

"I'm sure you would have found such a infringement by now and destroyed it, had that been the case. Now, how are you doing this morning, my boy?" Albus took a seat beside the bed and began preparing two cups of tea.

"Fine," Severus answered, accepting a cup and resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He took a sip and grimaced at the overly sweet flavor. "Honestly, Albus, must you put the whole sugar bowl in the tea?" With a wave, he vanished the cup's contents and began pouring a second cup, this time with no sugar or milk added.

The headmaster seemed to take this in stride and simply smiled fondly at his younger colleague. "A little sugar is good for the soul Severus, especially after your latest ordeal."

"Somehow, I doubt copious amounts of sugar would have any effect on my tarnished soul, Albus."

The headmaster changed tactics before the conversation could turn too negative. "You gave us quite the scare."

Severus dismissed the comment with a wave. "Nonsense, I have no need or desire to hear such empty platitudes." He continued, ignoring Albus' disappointed gaze. "Now, more importantly, how is the girl?"

"Miss Bones is doing well. Poppy was able to get her in order easily enough and she should be released from the infirmary sometime today."

"Good," Severus nodded in approval, then frowned, thinking something over. "Was she able to tell you how the Snatcher's got a hold of her in the first place? I was under the impression the two Aurors who showed up yesterday were there to prevent this very thing from happening."

Albus smiled ruefully. "Yes, they were. Unfortunately, the Snatchers overwhelmed them outside of the Ministry while they were escorting Miss Bones to St. Mungos."

Severus snorted in contempt. "And people wonder why the war has lasted as long as it has…I'm assuming you were already able to piece together why she was taken."

"I have my suspicions, yes."

Severus rolled his eyes when the headmaster would not go on and gave him what he knew anyway. "It appears that Amelia has been creating too many waves in the Ministry and the Dark Lord wants her out. I believe Miss Bones was to be the bait that would ensure her aunt's…silence."

"Yes, I had feared as much." Albus looked disappointed. "I will warn Amelia immediately. Thank you, Severus. I'll leave you to recuperate. Shall I come back for the rest of the report around lunch?" The old wizard stood to go, but the Potions master called him back.

"That will not be necessary, Albus. I prefer it if we just get this over with now, so I can be done with it."

"Severus, there is no need for that. You should rest a little bit more. You know how taxing it can be."

"I'm fine." The dark haired wizard bit out, resolutely holding the headmaster's gaze.

Sighing, Albus nodded his consent and went back to his chair. Leaning in so that their foreheads were nearly touching, Albus whispered, "Very well", before casting Legilimens and falling into the younger wizard's memories to relive the previous night.

_Severus Apparated between two old trees with a soft crack. His feet landed gracefully on the mossy ground of Deadmarsh. Dipping immediately into a crouch he took in his surroundings. The air festered with the aroma of mildew and dank waters yet he couldn't see the swampy lake anywhere near. Nor could he, thankfully, see any huts, which meant that he was probably right on the edge of the marsh and a good distance away from its inhabitants. _

_ Staying low to the ground just in case, he reached in his pocket to retrieve a paper packet of black hair. _

_The hair samples had been somewhat tricky to retrieve. The house of the kidnapped bride had been easy to break into. The wards weren't particularly hard to break. They were slightly childish, if he were being honest, but the fiancé (or who he assumed was the fiancé) had taken to hovering around the rooms of the house like a wandering ghost. He had unfortunately settled in the bride's bedroom to gaze at a picture frame for a few hours before eventually getting up to leave the house. All the while, Severus had to huddle in a dark corner, disillusioned and cramped, until he was finally able to get into the bedroom, and pluck a few hair strands from a brush. If the grieving man, hadn't been so distraught, Severus probably would've been able to simply Obliviate the man and take what he needed. Alas, Obliviating emotionally unstable people was highly dangerous, and Albus would've had his head if he accidently turned the man's mind to mush. _

_So he waited, and wasted so much precious time that now the sun was beginning to set already. He most likely only had a couple more hours before the woman's kidnappers would relocate her. And then, finding her would be nearly impossible._

_Sliding the strands out onto his palm he whispered a soft, slightly illegal, incantation that morphed the strands into a solid pointing stone. The stone lifted in the air, swiveling around in a slow circle until it stopped, and pointed towards the northeast. _

_ "Lead me." Severus trekked through the swampy vegetation following the pointer until the landscape changed and became a thick forest. The dark stone abruptly stopped, and unable to continue forward disintegrated into a fine dust. Reaching out with his wand, he brushed against a familiar set of wards that he knew belonged to Snatchers. This was the spot. _

_ He spent a few minutes walking around the wards to find any weak spots that could be chipped away without the caster noticing. He nearly laughed when instead of a vulnerable point he found a small metal spike in the ground. Walking around to the opposite side of the wards, he found three more spikes, confirming his suspicions. He couldn't believe his luck. Instead of tying the wards to an individual caster, who would most likely feel it if the wards fell, the imbeciles tied the wards to four grounders, objects that kept the invisible wall in place. _

_Either these Snatchers were extremely lazy or they were extremely moronic…or both. He'd met a few of them before at meetings and was not impressed. _

_Quickly dispatching the curses around the pegs, he was able to simply kick them aside and walk through the destroyed wards. With the house in sight, he took out two vials of potion and downed them one after the other and waited for their effects to take place in a small copse of trees. _

_He watched as his hands faded away into formless shadows, the rest of his body and his robes followed suit, until he was nothing more than a dark blur. He began his mental countdown as he approached the house. With two vials in his system he had only an hour before the potion wore off. He had to move fast if he wanted to beat the clock. _

_Crawling along the perimeter of the house on silent feet, he counted the number of men he would have to deal with. Two were outside, guarding the door (actually they were playing cards, but he suspected that they were supposed to be guarding the door), another two were in the kitchen, talkin,g and the last was patrolling on the second floor. 'Five in all, not bad odds considering they're all inept fools,' Severus thought to himself. He was infinitely glad that he didn't have to deal with his fellow Death Eaters. _

_Picking up a stick, he quickly snapped it in half catching the attention of the two guards out front._

_"Hey, what's that?" the first guard said with slight panic. _

_"Stop being a little bitch. It's just a deer or something." The other guard answered._

_"Well what if it ain't a deer? What if they found us?"_

_"Who the fuck is this 'they'?"_

_"I don't know, like Aurors or something."_

_"Then Lucinda would have sent us a message by now, but if you're so worried about it why don't you go and check it out?"_

_"What! Are you fuckin' crazy! I'm not goin' to check it by myself. We're both supposed to be guarding the house."_

_"And? What's your point?"_

_"And so you gotta come with me. I can't take on Aurors by myself." _

_"I already told you there ain't no fuckin' Aurors."_

_"You don't know that!"_

_"Fine! Fuckin' Circe! I'll come, just shut ya trap about the damn Aurors."_

_"Whatever, let's just go."_

_"I knew we shouldn't have brought a rook out on the job…gettin' scared of fuckin' twigs…damn disgraceful."_

_Severus pressed up against the side of the house and cast a Silencing Bubble around the area as he waited for the two voices to get close enough. Conjuring a second bubble to put around his head for protection, he opened up a square potion bottle that was filled with pink fumes. The fumes quickly rose in the air, swirling and expanding in the atmosphere until Severus and the two guards were completely surrounded. The Snatchers didn't last two seconds under the cloud of noxious gas and fell to the ground in an unconscious heap. They didn't even get the chance to call for help._

_ Not stopping his momentum, Severus put on two black gloves and retrieved another vial from his robes. It was a potent poison that would take care of the two men efficiently and with no fuss. _

_His hand didn't so much as twitch as he brought the vial, that would stop their hearts, to each of their lips and poured it down their throats. He couldn't risk them waking up before he was finished in the house and alerting others. It also didn't hurt that they were worthless scum who took joy in ruining the lives of others. He considered it an added bonus to the world that he could permanently put an end to them. _

_ Dropping the last guard's head back to the ground, he cancelled the Silencing Spell, and vanished the fumes. Carefully, he hovered to one of the second floor windows and slipped inside. He tip-toed over to the door to press his ear against it so he could hear where the patrolling guard was. Twenty seconds later the third Snatcher had passed the door and Severus was able to smoothly exit the room, creep up behind the unsuspecting wizard and bring a poison soaked handkerchief to his mouth. Three Snatchers were done. Now there were only two to go. _

_ Moving down the stairs like a whisper, and arriving at the kitchen, Severus' shadowed body slid in through the entrance, hovering around the dark edges of the room. The two Snatchers were still there, blissfully ignorant of his presence. By the table, not one but two young women were bound and gagged. The witch with curly black hair was, he assumed, the bride-to-be, and strapped against her was a smaller witch with straight blonde hair, her terror-filled eyes flitting between her two captors. She turned away and as her head unknowingly tilted towards Severus, the dark spy found himself inwardly cursing in as many languages as he knew, as he recognized the face of Susan Bones. Now he had two hostages to save instead of one. Slithering out of the room, he backtracked knowing he would have to move forward carefully if he wanted to save both women. The conversation from the kitchen followed him out. _

_ "I'm just sayin', it's not like the Dark Lord will mind if I just have a little taste…just for a minute or two. I won't kill 'em," one of the Snatchers said. _

_ "No, you idiot!" the other, probably the leader, replied hotly. "The Dark Lord wants them both unharmed before he gets them, 'specially the tattoo broad. If he finds out that you've been dipping in the pot without his say, he'll have both our heads."_

_ "A'right! Fine, then let me have the blonde chit. He never said nothin' bout her."_

_ "No, they're both off limits for now, but I'm sure when that Bones judge serves her purpose, the Dark Lord will gives us the girl. So for now keep it in your pants until I say so! Got it?"_

_ "Yeah, yeah…whatever, I'm gonna go take a piss."_

_ "Sure you are." The leader let out a lecherous laugh._

_ "Fuck off." The grumbling snatcher left the kitchen towards the bathroom unaware of the shadow following him into the sitting room. Springing into action the minute he was far enough away from the kitchen, Severus slammed the poison handkerchief on the Snatcher's, mouth smothering his scream as well. _

_ A shocked gasp suddenly came from behind the spy. "What the fuck did you do to Daryl?" _

_ Severus whirled around, dropping his victim to the floor, and spat out a curse as he turned to see a grubby looking wizard staring at him in shock. Two things immediately became apparent to the spy. One was that the potion had worn off and he was now visible, and the second was that there were six snatchers inside the house instead of the five he had counted. _

_'How did I miss one?' the spy thought viciously, as he whipped out his wand determined to stomp out the problem before it got out of hand. _

_ Severus spun his wand in a wide arc casting a silent Stupefy that sent the other man flying back into the wall, but not before his opponent could send a burning hex first that hit his thigh. _

_"Shit." Severus staggered back momentarily, hissing at the pain. Just as he was heading towards the unconscious man to make sure he stayed down, the door to the sitting room swung open. The leader, who had come running the instant he heard the racket, immediately charged the spy with a yell. Severus barely had time to raise a shield for himself before a number of attacks were sent his way. _

_Making a split second decision, Severus grabbed the knife resting at his hip, and let his shield drop, so he'd have more maneuvering room. He quickly dropped into a forward roll, ignoring the sting of a hex clipping his shoulder and twisted to the leader's left to stab him in the neck. The last of the Snatchers dropped to the ground. _

_"Finally," Severus muttered, kicking the last of his assailants away. His sweat soaked clothes clung to his body, his back was throbbing again and his thigh needed a long soak in a medicated bath, but at least the job was done now. Sending a Patronus to Kingsley for clean up and retrieval, he left to check on the women, who were still tied up in the kitchen._

_The bride-to-be was still firmly knocked out. From her feverish skin, the tremors racking her body and the dilation of the pupils, he speculated that the woman had been force-fed so many drugs to keep her sedated that her body was already shutting down. _

_He turned to Miss Bones who was also showing signs of an overdose, but at least she had somehow managed to remain conscious. Her clouded blue eyes looked at the professor with dawning comprehension and relief. "Hang on Miss Bones, I'll get you untied in just a moment. I have to_─"

_Pain speared his body, cutting off his speech. An iron snake with spiky thorns wrapped around his torso, steadily increasing the pressure of its squeeze. He had seen this before. It was the Snatcher's specialty, used only for emergencies because of the massive amounts of magic it called for. If cast correctly, it would create a full body bind that was nearly impossible to escape, then the snake would continue to squeeze until the body was crushed or the snatcher released it. Fortunately for him, whoever had cast the Binding Spell had done it very poorly and they had failed to catch his arms in the vise as well. _

_And he had a fair idea of who the culprit was. Heaving out a painful wheeze, Severus turned towards his attacker and there was the sixth Snatcher, the one he had Stupefied, stumbling towards him. He spat out a curse as he realized that he had forgotten about him after his duel with the leader._

_"Fuckin' Snatchers!" Severus hissed, throwing his knife so fast the Snatcher barely had time to blink. The blade embedded itself in his opponent's eye, killing him instantly. With its master's death, the snake disappeared as well, leaving behind a trail of gashes along his chest and back. _

_The world became dizzy as blood loss muddled his senses. He needed to hurry. Knowing Kingsley was on his way, Severus scooped up the Bones girl and Apparated back to Hogwarts. He made it two steps into the entrance hallway before everything went black. _

Albus slipped back out of his Potion master's mind and sat back to catch his breath. Severus who was once again pale and feverish, slumped against his headboard. The mental exercise had proven to be too much for his healing body after all.

Patting Severus' arms, Albus said, "Thank you again, Severus, for bringing Miss Bones to safety. It seems that you were able to arrive just in the nick of time. You'll also be happy to know that Kingsley arrived shortly after you left and has secured the bride a private room in St. Mungos. Her fiancé is most appreciative."

The younger wizard nodded, his eyes still closed as his body lowered itself back onto the bed. Sleep pulled at his mind. "Albus," his tired voice croaked out, "I'll need a couple of runes respelled before I go before the Dark Lord again."

"Yes, I imagine quite a few of the healing runes broke after your adventures last night. Shall I take a look then?"

Severus nodded in consent and vanished his shirt lifting his left arm for the headmaster to see. Albus worked quickly, resealing several runes.

"Alright, they should last you for a while," Albus said, slipping his wand away.

Severus looked over the runes, making sure the headmaster hadn't missed anything. "Thank you Albus, it looks good."

"Not a problem, my boy. Get some rest." Albus stood, rearranging his robes as he moved to leave

"And Albus," Severus called back, "thank you for finding me."

Hearing this, Albus stopped, his hand on the doorknob. A curious smile flashed across his face. The older man turned back to his bedridden professor, his eyes twinkling. "There is no need to thank _me,_ Severus. I did not find you."

Severus laid back down onto his pillow unconcerned. "Fine, then thank whichever House Elf that managed to find me." The Potions master's eyes began to drop, heavy from exhaustion.

"Ah," the headmaster chuckled, "I will certainly pass along your gratitude to the Elves that helped, but they did not find you either. I'm afraid that honor would go to Miss Granger."

Severus' eyes shot open as he jerked back up. "What?" he asked in disbelief.

Dumbledore seemed to get an even bigger kick out of his reaction. "Miss Granger was the one to find you, Severus. In fact, she was the one who kept you from bleeding out while she sent for Poppy and I. She even helped Poppy with your and Miss Bones' care all throughout the night. A truly remarkable girl, wouldn't you say? Hogwarts is very fortunate to have her." With those parting words, Albus slipped out the door, leaving the Potions master to his thoughts.

Severus remained quiet, staring down at his covers in shock. _Miss Granger found me? _He didn't know what to feel about that, aside from the usual irritation. He supposed he should feel gratitude and a part of him─a very small part that he was ignoring─did, but a larger part of him was just annoyed. For one, she was a student, and he hated the thought of any student seeing him in such a state. To make matters worse, not only was she a Gryffindor but she was also Potter's and Weasley's friend, and the three seemed to keep no secrets from each other.

_She's probably writing a letter to them about it right now, and Merlin knows once Weasley knows, then others will, too. The boy can't hold water. _The thought brought a sour taste in his mouth. He hardly tolerated Poppy and Albus knowing about his trips to the infirmary, and it was absolutely necessary for them to know. They had to be there to treat him! He didn't want anyone else nosing into his business.

Another thought popped into his head, horrifying him. _If she was there while Poppy was treating me, she might've witnessed some of my rambling. _His heart momentarily stopped beating. It didn't happen often, but every now and then the potions would go to his head and he would become more vocal. Poppy never shared with him what he said when in such a state, but from the pity that was always in her eyes when they talked about it, it couldn't be anything good.

_Great, I probably spilled my darkest secrets while Miss Granger was in the room and now she'll go off and have a good laugh about it with Potter and Weasley. Goddamn Gryffindors! _

Yanking his covers off, Severus gingerly got dressed in his robes. Poppy would probably kill him for getting out of bed so early, but he had no choice. He wouldn't leave his privacy up to chance, and if he wanted to make sure Miss Granger stayed quiet about this whole debacle, then he would have to ensure it himself.

Snatching up his wand, he limped out of his rooms. Determinedly, he ignored the pain throbbing through his body. He couldn't afford to let it slow him down. He had a Gryffindor to catch.

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**A/N: Dun, dun, dun-Severus on a warpath…poor Hermione, doesn't even know what's coming ;)**

**Hoped you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think! Reviews are always wonderful. **

**Next chapter: Severus and Hermione's confrontation and (drum roll…..) we finally meet Fera!**

**Until next time!**


	9. Heated Confrontations and Choices Made

**(Disclaimer: see beginning)**

**Thank you everyone who reviewed, followed or made this story a favorite-the support really does warm me. :)**

**Oh, and….I've got betas! So before we got to the next chapter, I want to thank _Gryffindork11_ and _McGonagall's Bola_ for their help. You guys are great!**

**Alright, on to the next chapter**

* * *

_Recap:_

_Snatching up his wand, he tiredly limped out of his rooms. Determinedly, he ignored the pain throbbing through his body. He couldn't afford to let it slow him down. He had a Gryffindor to catch._

* * *

Chapter 8

It wasn't hard to track down Miss Granger. In fact, it was easier than Severus thought it would be. He barely had to put any thought into his search. Anyone with half a brain would know that the first place to look for an insufferable know-it-all would be the library─ and he definitely possessed more than half a brain.

So it was only a matter of time, scouring through the stacks, before he spotted the girl's familiar bushy hair at one of the tables in the back of the library. Only one book lay open on her left and to her right; a long piece of parchment was rolled out before her. Thankfully, her back was to him, so she had no idea that he was coming.

Had his back and leg not been painfully stiff, Severus would have been able to sneak up behind the witch to read the, no doubt, gossip-filled letter she was writing to her idiotic friends. Unfortunately, his body was still throbbing, causing him to noticeably limp his way over to the Gryffindor's table, alerting the girl to his presence.

"What?" Miss Granger's head popped up at the sound of his approach. Turning around, her eyes widened as she finally spotted the dark wizard making his way to her table. Her chair screeched as she quickly pushed it back, standing up and maneuvering herself so she was blocking his view of whatever it was she was working on.

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Severus tried to glance around the girl, but before he could get a proper look at the parchment and book, she had tapped both with her wand. The book snapped closed and the parchment neatly rolled up, hiding away her secrets.

While doing this, the young Gryffindor tried to appear casual, as if she wasn't trying to hide something from her professor, but Severus knew better. He could smell a lying student a mile away, even the most deceptive ones, and Granger was far out of their league. The girl had no talent when it came to lying, though she had gotten better with age. Still, it was easy enough to spot the cues. A bite on the lip, a shuffling of her feet and an inability to look you in the eye, all signals she was exhibiting now that screamed: 'LIAR'. It wasn't often that Hermione Granger lied, but when she did it was painfully obvious.

_I was right, she was trying to write to Potter! Why else would she be hiding the parchment from me? _Severus looked over at the rolled-up parchment and felt a stab of disappointment that Granger had proven to be just as juvenile as the rest of his bratty students. He thought she, with her false airs of maturity, was at least a little bit better than that.

That disappointment, however, was quickly overwhelmed by the growing anger he felt at his hard-earned privacy being violated. What right did this impudent girl have to stomp her way into his personal affairs and then go spreading them around like an owl?

Well, he wouldn't allow that to happen. Pinning the girl with a glare that let her know that he was on to her, Severus took a menacing step forward. His leg only slightly buckled under the stress.

Catching his limp, Granger looked nervously at his leg, then, as if she was worried she asked, "Sir, are you okay? Shouldn't you still be in bed? Madame Pomfrey said that you would still be on bed rest for a couple of days."

If Severus hadn't just caught her spreading his business around like a gossip columnist from the Daily Prophet, he might have believed that she was concerned, but he knew she wasn't. _Probably just trying to deflect my attention away from the fact that I caught her red-handed. _

"I don't believe that's any of your concern Miss Granger," he snapped, sneering at her obvious ploy.

She snapped her mouth shut, blinking in surprise.

"I'm sure you know why I'm here," he added, taking another step so he was towering over her, his nose only centimeters away from hers. A whiff of vanilla and cream tickled his nostrils, momentarily distracting him, before his contemptuous sneer was back in place.

She took a nervous step back, whispering uncertainly, "Sir?" Severus followed her. _Oh no, witch, you won't be getting away until I say so._

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Miss Granger. What's on the parchment? And don't lie to me," he practically growled at her.

"The parchment? It─It's just…" the witch looked away, biting her lip, "um, it's just notes, for my charms project," she finished, lifting her chin with growing confidence. "I wanted to use the break to get most of it done."

Severus scoffed at the terrible lie. As if he would believe something so unimaginative and transparent. "Oh," he purred dangerously, and the Gryffindor shrank back, "then you would not mind if I see it, would you?" Before the witch could react, Severus held out his hand and silently called the rolled-up parchment to him, catching it easily.

"What!" the girl squeaked, clearly panicked, as she looked at the roll now in the wizard's hands.

_Not so confident now, are you, Miss Granger?_ Severus smirked down at the witch. "Did you really think that I wouldn't know, Miss Granger? Did you think that I would stand by and allow you to so blatantly disrespect me?!" His ire grew with each passing second.

"Sir, what are you talking about?" she asked. She had the gall to act innocent and confused, but Severus was beyond caring. He was furious again and more than ready to show the little Gryffindor exactly who she was playing with.

"I have a better question for you Granger. What did you hear last night?" Severus demanded. The witch paled at the question.

"I─I─I didn't─ I mean, it was…I didn't hear anything," the witch stuttered, frightened.

The potion master's cheeks flushed with anger. "Do. Not. Lie. To. Me," he threatened. His wand hand twitched.

Brown eyes skittered away from his. She licked her lips nervously before finally muttering something under her breath.

"What?" Severus snapped impatiently.

"I said, brown eyes," she repeated, this time a little louder, and Severus felt his stomach drop.

_Shit! Please, Circe, don't let me have shared that story with her. _Granger wasn't finished, though, and her next words managed to calm some of Severus' rising anxiety.

"All you kept saying," Miss Granger continued, "was 'brown eyes', and that you didn't want me to die. That's it─ I swear."

Severus closed his eyes in relief. He could tell Granger was telling the truth and though he wasn't thrilled that she had witnessed any of his drug-induced ramblings, he was grateful that he hadn't given away much. He was lucky the girl hadn't witnessed anything worse.

Most of his anger ebbed away at her confession, and Severus found himself relatively calm once more. He stepped back to give her space.

The girl let out a relieved breath, then gave him a tentative smile. "And I promise, sir, I'll keep it to myself."

Just like that, his sneer was back. His fist clenched around her parchment, crinkling it. "A little too late for that, isn't it Miss Granger?" he taunted her.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Severus cut her off, talking over her. "Even if I did not say much, I will not allow you to spread my business to those imbeciles you call friends," he spat, shaking her parchment in front of her. "You are lucky that I don't drag you to the headmaster right now!"

"What are you─", Miss Granger began, looking between the parchment and her professor in confusion. Finally, it all seemed to click, and when she realized what he had been talking about, her face contorted into a mask of pure outrage.

"You think that I went behind your back and told Harry and Ron what happened, like some─ some gossiping biddy? Is that what you think that parchment is? A letter!" The witch's voice rose. She looked both furious and disgusted as if the very idea of what he was saying was repugnant.

Severus stepped away, taken aback by the vehemence in her tone. He had never seen the Gryffindor so angry before. Had he misjudged the situation?

"I would never, NEVER, disrespect you or your privacy in such a way, sir!" Miss Granger finished, stomping her foot for emphasis.

Severus stared at the witch, at a loss for words. He could see she truly meant what she said and that she was genuinely offended that he didn't trust her. An unsettling feeling stirred in his gut that felt suspiciously like regret, but he quickly suppressed it. He might have been wrong about her telling her friends, but she WAS lying about the parchment and hiding something from him.

"And the parchment? You were trying to hide it from me," he accused stubbornly.

"Notes!" Miss Granger huffed, "They really are just notes!"

"Why would you try to hide notes?" Severus asked, and when the witch's eyes shifted nervously away, he nearly crowed in triumph. He turned his back on the witch and moved to unfurl the paper when it suddenly flew out of his hands and into the girl's.

_How dare she! _Turning sharply, Severus snarled out, "Miss Granger! We may be on break, but I am still your professor, and I will not stand for such disobedience! Now hand over the paper!" He was nearly seeing red, he was so mad.

The witch rebelliously kept the paper behind her back. "I can't!" she insisted, "It's for Professor Dumbledore, and no one else is supposed to see."

Severus gripped his wand, as he glared at the Gryffindor. He stopped himself from snatching the paper away, but only just. There was a possibility that Albus had sent the girl down to the library to do some research for him. If any other student had told such an implausible tale, he would never have believed them, but this was Hermione Granger. She was the one student who could get away with such a claim. If Albus were to ever send a student to the library to research something for him, Granger would be that student.

So, gritting his teeth, Severus allowed the witch to keep her notes. "Very well, Miss Granger." When she went to leave, he stopped her, grabbing onto her wrist. He bent low, invading her personal space. "But know this, I will go to the headmaster to verify your claim, and if I find out you're lying to me, you'll be scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of the year."

Miss Granger nodded stiffly, still looking offended as she grabbed her bag and stomped out of the library. Severus watched her progress with a frown. It was only after she left, that he let out a breath, sinking into a chair and finally letting his leg rest.

_Well, that didn't go as I thought it would_, he thought, dropping his head down onto the table, exhausted now that his anger was no longer driving him forward.

True, Miss Granger had not gone off to tell her friends about what had happened. That much was obvious from her strong reaction, but she was still hiding something that was supposedly for Dumbledore. Although the fact that the headmaster was involved should have put him at ease, it only made him more edgy. The old man's scheming was never a good sign, never mind when that scheming involved any of his beloved Gryffindors.

Rubbing his face, he prepared to leave when he spotted the book Miss Granger had left behind in her haste to leave. Severus brought the book closer reading the title aloud. "Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry: Academic records for the 1700s." _Why on Earth would Albus be having her research student grades from the 18__th__ century?_

Before Severus could open up the book and leaf through the pages, a robin-shaped patronus appeared in front of him. Its beak opened, and Poppy's shrill voice came out. "Severus Snape! I distinctly remember telling you that you couldn't get out of bed until I gave you the go-ahead. You cannot just leave whenever you bloody well feel like it! If you don't get back here and rest, I will find you and have you moved back to the infirmary. Don't test me, Severus, for I can and will do it."

Just as quickly as the robin had appeared, it disappeared, leaving Severus alone in the library once more.

"Bloody tyrant," the wizard muttered as he got up from his seat and hobbled back to his rooms as fast as he could. He was in no mood to test Poppy's determination today. With the luck he was having lately, she would most likely strap him to an infirmary bed and hold him there for a week.

Miss Granger's book lay, once again, forgotten on the table.

* * *

Hermione was still livid after she left the library. She had no idea where she was going, but she knew that she had to get away before she did something disrespectful.

"Impossible man!" she ranted, turning randomly down another corner. "I can't believe he thought I would do something like that. Who does he think I am? Rita bloody Skeeter?"

A small warm body pressed against her legs, halting her rant. A furry ginger face looked up at her curiously.

"Crookshanks, what are you doing here?" Hermione asked, bending down so she could properly pet her familiar.

Crookshanks mewed quietly, quirking his head to the side as if he were wondering the same thing about her.

"Oh well, I just needed a bit of a walk. I had to get away from one of my professors before I did something I would regret," she told him as if he had really asked.

"I know," she continued, sitting on the floor beside him, "he has some vendetta against Gryffindors and, well, all students outside of Slytherin, but when have I ever given him reason to think I was some airheaded gossip? I just…I wish he didn't have to be so vile about it." Hermione sighed. "Especially since I was only worried about him."

Crookshanks nodded in understanding, nudging against her hand when she stopped petting him. The witch chuckled and continued lavishing attention onto the cat. "But maybe, that's just him acting out the whole Death Eater persona," Hermione suggested hopefully.

Crookshanks made some scratchy noise in his throat and gave her a look that suggested she was a simpleton. Hermione sheepishly looked away. "Yeah, that was a little naïve, even for me." She paused, a thought suddenly popping into her head. "Hey, I wonder why he didn't take away any points? I'm surprised Gryffindor isn't in the negatives by now…"

With a shrug, Hermione rolled to her feet, brushing off her jeans. _Maybe he just forgot. Thank God for that too. The other Gryffindors would've killed me. _The young witch turned back to her familiar. "Come on, Crooks, let's go back to the dorm. Thanks for listening to me by the way. You really─"

Before Hermione could finish her sentence, the ginger feline shot up to his feet and ran down the hallway.

"Crookshanks! Wait! Where are you going?" Hermione called, rushing to her feet and running after him. Crookshanks led her on a merry chase around the castle, turning sharply down a different hall whenever she caught up to him. He became nothing more than a blur of orange in the distance, no matter how fast the Gryffindor witch ran after him.

So busy chasing after her familiar, Hermione paid no attention to where he was leading her. It wasn't until the feline stopped in front of a familiar door that she realized just how deep into the castle they had gone.

Hermione looked around the old corridor in confusion. "Crookshanks, where…" she trailed off as she realized where she was. It was the same corridor from the other night. She was back at the mystery room.

The witch looked at her cat suspiciously. "How on earth did you know about this place and why did you take me here?" she demanded.

Crookshanks simply stared at her expectantly, his tail twitching behind him. He raised a paw to scratch at the door, then turned back to her with another pointed stare. His message was very clear: 'go inside'.

"Fine," Hermione relented, twisting the doorknob and pushing into the room.

The room was just as she had remembered it. Dusty tomes stacked up into untidy piles and were shoved against the walls and into every corner, cobwebs dangling from every surface and papers strewn about the floor. Of course, sitting in the middle of the room, was the lone pedestal, holding that bizarre leather-bound book. The only difference that Hermione could see was that the book was no longer in chains and was now resting innocently on its stand.

As Hermione stepped farther into the room, her left hand began to tingle. Suddenly, heat spread through the appendage as she cradled it to her chest. Swiftly unwrapping the bandage from her hand, she spread her fingers to get a better look at the swirling words still on her hand.

"What?" Hermione gasped as she looked at the now glowing words. Magic hummed in the air around her, swirling in a warm breeze. Voices echoed in the room, their familiar words reminding the witch of the dreams she had experienced during the past weeks.

"_I shame no one! Your unfounded prejudices blind you!"_

"Hello?" Hermione cried, looking around the room for the source. "Is someone there?"

"_Ungrateful girl! They are scum! Filth! Entirely beneath us. You would have done well to have remembered that…"_

"_Ben, I beg of you! There is time_─ _come with me!"_

"_Ben…please…"_

All of a sudden, a white light emanated from the open book; the magic in the air grew heavy as the book rose above the pedestal. Its leather cover creaked as it slowly opened for Hermione.

Silence fell in the room, as time seemed to stand still. _"Amante sanguis signaculum confringetis. Rex maledictio levare oblitus. esse custos vestibuli," _a dark voice that Hermione recognized as Colten Rosier's intoned.

"Blood of the lover, you break this seal. Kin of the forgotten, you lift this curse. Be the keeper of the door," Hermione recited the words she had translated yesterday. The same words that were etched onto her left hand.

A curious calm settled in her, washing away her panic the closer she came to the open book. She felt a pull much like the other night, urging her to touch the book. The sensation caused her to pause. _Wait, what am I doing?_

Hermione blinked, her mind beginning to clear. Realizing what she was about to do, she took a hasty step back. "What?" She snatched her hand away, dumbfounded that she had nearly touched an unknown enchanted item. _Mr. Weasley would kill me if he knew what I almost did…and what on earth just happened to me?_

Sweeping a strand of curls away from her face, the Gryffindor took a shaky breath. "That was close, wasn't it, Crooks." Hermione gave a weak chuckle, looking back to her cat…who was no longer there. The door to the room was now closed, and there was no sign that her familiar had ever been in the room with her. "Crookshanks?"

Moving back to the door, she tugged on the handle, ready to start her search for her cat again, but the door wouldn't budge. Another, harder tug on the handle didn't help. _Oh no._

Fumbling into her robes, Hermione pulled out her wand, swishing it in front of the door and yelling out, "Alohomora!"

When that didn't work, the witch lost her composure and began pounding on the door, hoping someone might hear and come to her rescue. "Can someone hear me? Please, the door is locked! I need help!"

"Come," someone, who sounded a lot like Fera, whispered behind her. Hermione stopped banging on the door and turned to look at the floating book. "Come," the voice beckoned again.

"Fera?" Hermione meekly asked, stepping forward despite her rising fear. "Come where?"

"Come…"

"The book? Will the book take me somewhere?"

"Come, keeper…"

"Keeper?" Hermione asked, looking around unsure. "What do you mean, keeper?" Her left hand burned, and Hermione looked back at the black words pulsing with energy. "Be the keeper of the door," she murmured, then looked back towards the book startled. "Me? I'm the one this tattoo is referring to? I'm the keeper? What am I keeper of?"

There was no answer, but Hermione persistently kept her questions going, hoping they would eventually be addressed. "Is this why I've been having those dreams? Because I'm the keeper of…whatever it is I'm keeper of?"

A thought suddenly popped into her head as she remembered her conversation with the headmaster. He had told her to watch out for an opportunity dealing with Fera, an opportunity that would eventually help with the war. Had he meant this moment? Did he want her to take the book?

Swallowing, she attempted to talk to the voice again. "Why do you want me to take the book?"

Nothing; the room remained silent. Hermione sighed. "Of course you won't answer me." Pacing across the room now, she snuck suspicious glances at the open book that was waiting patiently for her to act. "What do I do?" she asked herself, wringing her hands.

On the one hand, when she had talked about the other night with the headmaster, he had assured her that she had nothing to worry about from the room or the book. Well…he had hinted that it would all be okay in that enigmatic way of his, but she knew what he meant. He had also warned her that something like this would happen and that it would be very advantageous for her and possibly Harry if she went with the flow.

On the other hand, this book could be cursed, like the journal Ginny had found her first year. Touching it could end with her being cursed, possessed or even worse, killed. So the important question really was: should she take the risk anyway?

_What if the answer to beating Voldemort, really was in that book?_ Could she really pass up the opportunity if it was? Wasn't the risk worth it?

"It's completely worth it," Hermione muttered, looking at the book with a new determination. Straightening her robes, she squared her shoulders and went back to the book. Her heartbeat doubled as she stood in front of the pedestal, she squeezed her eyes shut, and prayed that Professor Dumbledore had been right as she snatched the book from the air.

She didn't even have a chance to scream as a force tugged at her navel, sweeping her away to some unknown place and knocking her unconscious in the process.

* * *

Hours could have passed, or minutes, or even seconds. Hermione had no idea. Groaning, she slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the harsh light of whatever room she was now in.

"Where am I?" She pushed herself up on shaking arms, and grabbed at her aching head.

"Who are you?" someone asked from behind Hermione, startling the young witch.

Snatching up her wand, Hermione turned sharply at the sound of the intruder only to drop her wand in shock. The Gryffindor's eyes widened, as she took in the blonde woman standing behind her. Hermione stuttered over her words as she asked, completely dumbfounded, "Fera?"

* * *

**A/N: and there it is. Oh and just a little note; I know the latin phrase that's on Hermione's hand has changed. It was brought to my attention that google translate was, not surprisingly, completely unreliable. So, I'm in the middle of fixing it up so that it actually makes sense. **

**Next chapter: We finally find out why Fera was locked away in the book, what her project is and….is Hermione stuck?!**

**We'll find out next Friday….or maybe sooner, I'll try my best to get the next chapter out before then-we'll see. **

**Thanks for reading, and please review! I would love to hear what you think :)**


	10. Dark Prisons and Dangerous Research

**_(Disclaimer: See Beginning)_**

**_Thanks for all the reviews and such! And of course, thanks to my betas, Gryffindork11_ and _McGonagall's Bola for their help. _**

**_Enjoy the chapter_**

**_(This is an added note: sorry for the repost, but I'm going to be crazy busy this week so I won't be able to post the next chapter until next Friday-Sorry! :/)_**

* * *

_Recap:_

"_Who are you?" someone asked from behind Hermione, startling the young witch. _

_Snatching up her wand, Hermione turned sharply at the sound of the intruder only to drop it in shock. The Gryffindor's eyes widened, as she took in the blonde woman standing behind her. Hermione stuttered over her words as she asked, completely dumbfounded, "Fera?"_

* * *

Chapter 9

"Fera?" Hermione asked, stumbling to her feet clumsily, her bag sliding from her shoulder and to the floor in the process.

She stood, frozen, her eyes blinking rapidly in disbelief. This mystery woman standing before her was the spitting image of Fera Rosier. Her long blonde hair that trailed down her back, her clear blue eyes, pointed nose and rose-colored lips, the small beauty mark just below her left eye─ it was as if Fera had stepped straight out of Hermione's dreams.

_But that couldn't be possible._ The Gryffindor had seen Colten killing her in that dark ritual with her own eyes. Fera Rosier was dead…wasn't she?

"I have changed my mind," Fera stated, re-catching Hermione's attention. "You may keep your name. It has occurred to me that becoming acquainted with a figment of my own imagination is particularly insalubrious."

"But I'm not─" Hermione tried to protest.

Fera continued, murmuring to herself, "my mental faculties must be deteriorating at an even faster rate if I cannot discern reality from fantasy any longer…damn this prison." The blonde witch turned on her heel, quickly exiting the dark room.

Hermione stared at the now empty doorway, completely baffled. _What on Earth just happened here?_

This Fera seemed a lot less…put together, mentally speaking, than Dream Fera had been. Did this place somehow change her? That is, if this Fera was, indeed, the real Fera. Or was This Fera nothing more than an illusion, a twisted ghost of who she used to be?

"Well, there's only one way to find out," Hermione muttered. Putting her wand back in her pocket, and picking up her fallen bag to sling it around her shoulders, she left the room.

Bright light immediately assaulted her eyes the second she step through the doorway. Blinking her eyes so they could adjust, she found herself back in the hallways of Hogwarts, or at least a weak imitation of Hogwarts.

While the architecture and décor was the same, mimicking the original castle's ornate windows, it's thick stonewalls and framed portraits, everything was still…off.

Shapes were sharper, and the colors surrounding her were too dramatic. The reds were too red, and the blues too blue. The sky was a bizarre shade of teal, with not a cloud or sun around. It was just an even coat of flat teal, nothing more. Even the trees outside were oddly formed, their branches twisting towards the sky in tight spirals.

"It's so…" Hermione bit her lip, trying to find the right word, "fake. Why is everything here so crazy?"

The sound of doors banging shut jolted her from her thoughts and brought her back to her original mission: to find the illusion/real Fera.

Hermione ran down the corridors in what she hoped was the right direction. She waved as she passed by the portraits, whose inhabitants were clamoring to see who the new arrival was, their excited whispers echoing in the long hall.

Her short journey brought her to the large double doors of the Hogwarts library and the Gryffindor couldn't stop the large smile that was beginning to spread across her face. The doors creaked open as the small witch pushed against the heavy oak.

The room was surprisingly quiet and fairly dim, with only a few candles lit along the walls. The set-up was much like the Hogwarts' library that had ensnared the Hermione's affection her first year. She could almost picture Madame Pince sitting behind her desk, her lips pursed in displeasure as she admonished a student for dropping one of her books.

With a sentimental smile, Hermione progressed further into the room.

"Fera, are you in here?" she called out, her voice echoing in the silent room. A noise from the restricted section caught her attention, so she quickly followed it, pushing open the iron gates that separated the darker part of the library from the rest of the room. Passing through the aisles of books, she found herself in front of yet another door that was slightly ajar. It opened easily as Hermione slipped inside, a gasp falling from her lips.

"Amazing," Hermione whispered.

It was a library straight from her dreams. The room was one big circle with a high ceiling. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with built-in shelves for the thousands of books that lay neatly upon them. The only section of wall that wasn't covered with bookshelves, held a marble fireplace that was currently lit. Two wingback chairs were sitting in front of the fire, their green leather glowing from the soft flames.

In the very center of the room, a large pole was erected, and a long wooden table was wrapped around its base like a skirt. Papers, books, quills and drawings were haphazardly strewn about its surface. To the very left of the table, a black chalkboard was standing. On it, half of an arithmancy equation was written out.

Fera was nowhere to be found.

_This must be Fera's study. _Hermione walked over to the chalkboard, eyebrows rising as she tried to understand the complex equation that was written out. Her mind was already buzzing as it tried to follow the complicated knot of numbers. If she needed any further proof that Fera was indeed as brilliant as Professor Dumbledore claimed, it could be found right here on this chalkboard.

Shaking her head and promising herself that she would come back later to have another crack at the equation, Hermione moved on to the disorganized pile of papers on the table next to her. On the very top of the pile, a battered old journal sat, its cover worn and crinkled from extended use.

With a quick check around the room to make sure she was still alone, Hermione gingerly picked up the book and flipped it open to the first page. In neat script, the words '_Project Reservoir'_ sat innocently on the top of the page. Below it was the date, March 28, 1779, and Fera's name in ornate letters.

Hermione turned a page, quickly skimming it.

_March 28, 1799_

_I have spoken with both Headmaster Tremble and Master Stolkins and they believe that my research idea has merit. Headmaster Tremble, especially, is quite enthusiastic for my success and has, in a very charitable spirit, offered to sponsor my research, which brings me much relief. While I am sure the ministry would have graciously covered my expenses, I find that I prefer to work in the solitude of a more private setting and on a schedule that is more suitable to my temperament. The proper atmosphere makes all the difference, you know. _

_The department of Magical Law Enforcement is of course very supportive of my endeavor and for that I am glad. If all goes according to plan, my Reservoir Stone should drastically reduce the number of Auror casualties while in the field. _

_I have decided to start my research by measuring the magical energy signatures and levels of magical cores within witches and wizards. I am hoping that by beginning at this point, I will be able to eventually analyze and manipulate the 'magical recharge' and output within all magical beings, so they can then 'share' it with others in times of distress. _

_First, I will have to create a potion that will allow me to see the magical energy within each individual. Perhaps I can utilize my skills in Occlumency…._

"Sharing magic?" Hermione mouthed in awe, skipping a few entries to see where Fera's research would take her.

_August 6, 1799_

_I have made a marvelous discovery! On a lark, I decided to measure the energy levels within Muggles as a comparison to other magical creatures. I had assumed that the energy that I would see within Muggles would drastically differ from that of magical beings, but it is the same! _

_I have measured the signatures of several individuals to affirm my suspicions and the results lead to only one conclusion; Muggle and Magical Folk share the same form of energy, meaning of course, Muggles have magical energy within them too! _

_The only difference that I can discern, as of yet, is that they do not produce enough magical energy for them to use. Just as in the magical, the amount of magical energy within a Muggle can vary. I've even found that in some, there is an abundance of magical energy stored within the body, however, for whatever reason, it lies dormant. These same individuals also seem to lack a magical core that would help replenish any magic they depleted. Should they ever be able to reach their magical reserves, I imagine it would drain their magical energy AND their life source quickly after. So, it is possible this is the reason they are blocked from their magic. _

_A new thought has just occurred to me. The abundance of magic within these individuals could explain the appearance of Muggle-born children…I will have to look further into this hypothesis in the near future. _

_I wonder how much magical energy my dear Edmund has…._

"Oh my God," Hermione breathed, gripping the journal in her excitement. Muggles contained magical energy. It explained so much! "This woman is brilliant!" she gushed, eagerly jumping between entries at random.

_October 23, 1800_

_The transfiguration spell Nicolas suggested was a success. I have successfully crafted my Reservoir stone! It must have time to harden appropriately for the next week, but I eagerly await its finish! For the time being I have placed it in my plant room to rest._

_November 3, 1800_

_The stone is more potent than I thought it would be. When I returned to my greenhouse for its retrieval, I discovered all my plants dead. They were nothing more than shriveled, blackened stems and dust. I can only assume that their sudden deaths were the result of the Reservoir stone absorbing all of their energy._

_As a consequence, I have applied the necessary charms that should prevent it from erratically absorbing any nearby energy source and as an added precaution I have also encased within a metal box for safekeeping. I am hoping that with these preventative measures in place, the stone will behave appropriately._

An ominous feeling filled Hermione as she read on.

_January 16, 1801_

_I am deeply troubled. I have tried numerous times to reach a satisfactory result and still the answer to my problem alludes me. I have found that once activated the stone, no matter which containment spells I use, will not cease its objective. They simply continue to absorb the energy of the subject they are keyed to until there is none left to take, even going so far as to absorb their life force as well. _

_I have been using Ramora fish, which are known for their vast magical reserves and potency, but even they are no match for the stones. While I am able to release the energy stored in the stone into the 'receiver' fish with relatively no problems, regrettably, the 'giver' fish is never as fortunate._

_By last account, it took 1 minute and 36 seconds for the Reservoir stone to drain and kill the last specimen. I dare not try the stone on more sentient beings or Merlin forbid, a human. I do not believe they would fare any better. _

_Absorption, once begun, cannot be stopped._

_April 18, 1801_

_Nicolas has warned me that I may not be able to adjust my Reservoir Stone any further. He informed me that the magic within alchemy created stones has a tendency of becoming 'living magic' which much like enchanted items, can take on a will of its own. _

_If this is the truth, then I fear for my research. The potential for disaster…is astronomical._

_July 21, 1801_

_Ben's last letter has deeply troubled me. He wrote to warn me that my father has somehow discovered the nature of my research. _

_I am distraught._

_ I do not pretend to be ignorant of my father's sinister character, especially when directed at Muggles and Muggle-borns. He is monstrous. I can only imagine what he would do if he were to ever acquire my Reservoir Stone._

_ Though my own conscience forbears me from using human subjects I do not believe that his would present itself as much of an obstacle, steeped as it is in villainous intent. _

_There is only one path now…_

Hermione closed the journal solemnly, her mind racing. Fera's big project, the secretive research that Professor Dumbledore had hinted at, was about an alchemy stone that stole magic. It was both terrifying and brilliant all at once.

"No wonder she destroyed her research," Hermione mused, slumping into the nearest chair and rubbing her aching temples. If Colten Rosier had gotten a hold of the Reservoir Stone, he would have most likely sucked every Muggle and Muggle-born child dry without even blinking an eye. He would, in turn, have an endless supply of power.

_What could a man like Colten Rosier do with that much power_? The thought made the Gryffindor shiver.

"Thank God he's dead," she sighed, then stilled when a new thought suddenly popped in her head. _Rosier's dead, but Voldemort isn't._

Hermione paled as her mind tried to wrap around the concept of a world in which Voldemort had access to unlimited power. It was just as Fera had written; the potential chaos that one little stone could create, especially in the hands of a sick madman like Voldemort, would be absolutely apocalyptic.

"Why on Earth would Professor Dumbledore suggest I find out more about this stone? What good could possibly come from the Order using something like it? We'd be no better than the Death Eaters," Hermione muttered, wringing her hands in panic.

_No, Dumbledore wouldn't want that. Perhaps, he just wants us to create a stone like it…or maybe fix the stone's original formula, so it's no longer lethal…Merlin! Harry would have no trouble defeating Voldemort then. Although, if Fera couldn't do it, then how could we manage it?_

Folding her arms on the desk, Hermione laid her head down upon them, groaning audibly at such an impossible task.

* * *

"Are you still here?" Fera challenged sharply, appearing suddenly beside the Gryffindor witch. Hermione jumped out of her seat, one hand gripping her wand and the other gripping her racing heart.

"Of course I'm still here!" Hermione exclaimed. "And will you please not sneak up on me like that? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

The older witch cocked one eyebrow as she looked over her uninvited guest, and her calm façade rapidly bled into a look of utter disgust.

"I have taken my potion. I should no longer be plagued by hallucinations!" Fera snapped, stomping her foot childishly. Magic swirled around the blonde dangerously, sending her hair and robes flying in the conjured wind. Her blue eyes blazed with power and anger.

_Oh Merlin! _ Hermione thought, panic replacing her irritation, as she cautiously inched her way towards the door. "I'm not a hallucination! I'm a witch," she insisted.

The magical outburst abruptly stopped. "Are you now?" Fera asked, intrigued again. Her long fingers poked at Hermione's face and chest. "Hmm, you are rather solid. Tell me then, child, if you are not a product of dementia then where did you come from?" The witch's eyes darkened as a thought crossed her mind. "Or are you a trap, created by my father to falsely secure my trust?"

The soft fire behind them roared, spiking into the air to match the other witch's temper. Fera brought a pale wand up, pressing it against Hermione's throat in a threatening manner. "I warn you," she bit out behind gritted teeth, "I am not a being to be trifled with."

"I─I'm not a tra─trap," Hermione stuttered looking down at the thin piece of wood against her skin nervously. "Look, I can explain everything─it just might not make any sense. It doesn't make much sense to me at least."

Fera narrowed her eyes, thinking over what the girl said. Seconds stretched into minutes, until finally the wand was dropped from Hermione's throat, to which the curly-haired witch gave a grateful sigh.

"Very well," Fera agreed, stepping back before pointing at the chairs by the fireplace. "You may sit and attempt an explanation." With a swish of her blue robes, the older witch gracefully sat in one of the chairs, her back arched regally as she waited.

"You may begin," she stated imperiously.

Hermione promptly sunk into the green leather of the seat, fiddling with her shirt as she tried to order her thoughts. "Right," she sighed. "You see, I wasn't created, well, except by my parents, but I wasn't created in a lab or anything, and certainly not by a dark wizard." Hermione stopped, realizing that she was rambling and started again, "I'm a student at Hogwarts, a Gryffindor actually, and I believe that I was sent here."

"Indeed?" Fera asked, skeptically. "And by whom were you sent?"

"Well, that's just the thing," Hermione said, worrying her lip. "I think I was actually sent by you, or at least someone using your voice. When I touched the book today, I thought you were dead, so I wasn't entirely sure who was talking to me."

One blonde eyebrow arched in question. "Book? To which book are you referring?"

Hermione blinked. "The book that your father used in that ritual. You know, the one that trapped you here."

Fera straightened in her chair. "And how do you know about that ritual?" she questioned, suspicious once more.

"Well, actually, it's the same way that I learned about you. I saw it in a dream," Hermione said, leaning forward in her chair, her words rushing out of her. "I've been having a lot of dreams about you lately, all about you and some research that you were trying to keep from your father. They never go farther than the ritual though. And then, the other night, I was lead to a weird room that had the same book, except it was covered in chains, and I think I heard your voice. I must have cut myself on it or something, then I passed out, and when I woke up, the book was no longer chained and I had this on my hand."

Finished with her long speech, Hermione took in a much-needed breath of air to steady herself, while sticking out her left hand to show the other witch her tattoo. Slim fingers wrapped around Hermione's hand, pulling and twisting at it so the words could be properly read.

With a bark of laughter, Fera dropped Hermione's hand as she bounced from her chair. Hermione leaned back in surprise. She looked at the other witch with apprehension, not sure if she could trust this new jovial mood just yet. She had no idea what this place was doing to Fera, but her mood swings were beginning to really scare her.

The other witch was now pacing around the private room, chuckling to herself while gesticulating wildly with every turn and muttering under her breath.

"Um," Hermione mumbled, startling Fera who must have forgotten that she wasn't alone. "I take it, by your reaction, that you understand what this tattoo is all about."

"Of course I do! It is quite simple really. My father is a contemptible bastard!" Fera remarked with a smile, her eyes shining with glee.

Hermione cautiously smiled. "Yes, he was," she agreed quickly, "but what does that have to do with these words?"

"Pardon?" Fera asked, as she stopped pacing. "Oh, yes, your 'tattoo', as you called it. It is actually a curse, or rather the cure to a curse…or perhaps it is a key…or a puzzle piece? No, no. Definitely a key." The blonde trailed off, staring at the blazing fire thoughtfully.

The younger witch looked down at her marked hand, a frown pulling at her mouth. "So this is the result of a curse?" Fera hummed in approval. "Okay then, what curse are we talking about?"

Fera, serious once more, scolded Hermione. "What curse?" she asked incredulously, spreading her arms out wide. "Open your eyes, child. THIS is the curse. This world, in which there is no escape."

"Your father cursed you by trapping you in a warped version of Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

Fera waved her question away, "No, I assume Headmaster Tremble was responsible for that."

"Wait, Headmaster Tremble is the one who stuck you in this book?" Now Hermione was getting confused.

"What are you talking about?" Fera snapped. "Have you not been listening to me? My father is responsible for trapping me here."

"I have been listening, but you're not making it very clear," Hermione spat back. She took a calming breath, reordering her thoughts. "Alright. Your father trapped you in this world, but it was Headmaster Tremble who made it resemble Hogwarts? Is that right?"

Fera gave her a pleased smile. "Exactly."

Relieved, Hermione nodded, "Okay. How?"

Leaning over the back of her abandoned chair, Fera thought over her answer. "I cannot tell you exactly what happened after my father imprisoned me, as I was not there, but I can share my own thoughts on the matter."

"That can work," Hermione encouraged her.

"Very well," Fera said, reclaiming her seat. "This world as you see it was not the original prison my father constructed when he bound me to this Soul Book."

"Soul Book? I've never heard of that before," Hermione told the other witch.

"Yes, any reputable witch or wizard would have never heard of it either. It is quite illegal and born from very, VERY, dark magic. This world you see around you is just an extension of that black magic."

"Wow, so Soul Books act like prisons?" Hermione asked.

Fera chuckled in amusement. "Nothing so simple, child, I assure you. If my father wished to merely imprison me, he could have locked me away in our manor's dungeons. No, this magic is much more complex than that." The blonde tittered as she toyed with a piece of hair.

"You may look at it this way: this world, is more than just a prison, its a separate dimension, a pocket of space and reality that exists outside of your world and is supported entirely by dark soul magic─my soul to be exact."

Hermione gulped. "Your soul?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, well, not entirely my soul. You see, the more souls you bind to a book, the stronger the prison becomes. My father must have sacrificed quite a few people to make this prison…its very hearty, you know."

Hermione looked around the room apprehensively. "So, there are trapped souls wandering around in here with us?"

Fera snickered. "Not in here, no. Out there." She pointed at the window, towards the Forbidden Forest. "I have set wards that keep them out, as they can be quite irritating. Though, I would not even consider them to be souls any longer, at least, not in the traditional sense. After succumbing to the dark magic, they are little more than nasty shadows, echoes of the people they once were, whose bodies, minds, and souls were torn apart and absorbed into the book."

"So why aren't you…you know?" Hermione asked, waving at the woman's very physical body.

"Had Professor Tremble not stolen the book away, and expanded this world as you see it, such would have been my fate. You see, I was originally trapped in the small room you arrived in, surrounded by the cursed souls, who were waiting to pull me into their cursed, half-existence. It took all of my mental and magical power to keep them at bay. By the time the Headmaster rescued me from my father's clutches, they had nearly succeeded in destroying my body and capturing my soul. Fortunately, he was able to set me free from the room at least. "

"How do you know Headmaster Tremble is responsible for all this?" Hermione asked.

"Who else would do this? Certainly not my father. That would be counter-productive. There is no one else within my acquaintance who knew of my situation and had the power to thwart my father and assist me in such a way."

"And this tattoo?" Hermione pressed.

"My father was always exceedingly paranoid. I imagine he put a curse on the book, to seal it the minute it was stolen from him, so I could not be freed. He was also a very malicious man who enjoyed taunting his enemies. 'Blood of the lover', as your markings say, could only refer to my Muggle lover, Edmund. His blood was most likely used to activate the curse.

"He knew Edmund would never be able to come to my aid. Not only was he kept ignorant of the magical world, but as a Muggle, he would not understand how to free me…my father probably had himself a good laugh about it," Fera finished in a sad whisper.

"That's horrible," Hermione whispered.

Fera gave a hollow laugh. "Yes, well, my father always did think himself witty. It no longer matters anyway. What is done is done, and the seal is no longer in tact, thanks to you and your blood," Fera added happily. "You must be a descendent of my dear Edmund." Fera smiled fondly at her before straightening. "That reminds me. May I see your hand?"

"Um, okay?" Hermione held out her left hand for the other woman.

In a sudden flash of movement, Fera snatched Hermione's hand. The blonde witch pulled out a knife from her robes and with a twisted smile, said, "Hold still."

Hermione frantically tugged at her hand, trying to loosen the witch's firm grip. "Are you out of your mind! Let go─AH!" She squealed as the tip of her middle finger was pricked.

Fera squeezed the wounded digit until a single drop appeared, which she scooped up with her knife.

Once she had secured her prize, Fera ran out of the room, her blue robes billowing in her wake. Without a second thought, Hermione jumped up to follow her, sucking on her cut as she went.

* * *

Fera led the young Gryffindor back to the room where she had originally entered the Soul Book. The older witch strode up to a long glass mirror with her knife and the blood and pressed it against the surface.

Whatever Fera had done, caused a magical ripple to roll across the glass. The woman stepped back with a beaming smile. She turned to see Hermione coming up behind her and waved her over. "Come here girl."

"Well since you asked me so nicely," Hermione muttered sarcastically as she made her way to the other witch's side. She looked over the mirror curiously. _Is this the way home?_

Her hand was once again snatched up and Fera was roughly squeezing at her finger to draw out more blood. Trying to regain control of her limbs, Hermione attempted to push the mentally unstable witch off, only for her hand to be slapped away.

"Shh!" Fera reprimanded her as if she were an errant child in need of discipline. With a hard tug on the young witch's wrist, Fera thrust her hand towards the glass surface. Again the glass rippled, as a buzz of energy traveled up Hermione's arm, shocking her. The tips of her fingers started to disappear into the mirror, causing the shocks to intensify until they became painful.

"Ow! It shocked me!" Hermione shouted, yanking her hand back to safety.

Beside her, Fera was humming happily. "'Blood of the lover', indeed."

Shaking out the tingles from her hand, Hermione scowled at the older witch. "You could have warned me," she admonished her.

"What was there to warn? I did not know what would happen. I simply was acting on a new hypothesis."

Hermione cut her eyes at Fera with an irritated frown. "A guess, you mean."

Fera shrugged, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "An educated guess. In any case, your blood is the key to leaving. I believe you would be able to leave now, if you wish…"

"Well, that's good to know," Hermione said, rubbing her hand absentmindedly.

"Although, the electric charge you would have to endure to get through the portal could just as easily kill you…" Fera added brightly.

Hermione thought over this new information. She knew there was at least some truth to the possibility that trying to leave would kill her. Her sore arm could attest to that.

There was also the matter of the Reservoir Stone research that she had to figure out for Dumbledore, so she had to stick around long enough for that anyway or, at least, until the end of break. Still, she didn't cherish the thought of being stuck here. Maybe there was a compromise they could reach. She could supply her blood and in return Fera could allow her to use her research.

"I'll stay," Hermione decided.

"Pardon?" Fera inquired, cocking one eyebrow.

"I'll stay," the Gryffindor repeated, "You know, to help you leave too. I'll do whatever I can to help, whether it's through research or just to supply blood samples."

Fera said nothing as she stared thoughtfully at the bushy-haired witch in front of her. After a long pause, she asked, "What would you like in return?"

"I want permission to continue your research on the Reservoir Stone," Hermione requested meekly. When Fera's eyes began to darken in anger again, she quickly tried to explain herself. "I don't want to use it for some diabolical plan or anything like that. I swear!"

"Then, why do you wish to continue my work? The Reservoir Stone is not a light matter to be toyed with."

Words gushed from Hermione's mouth as the young witch desperately plead her case. "Yes, I completely agree, but you see, there is a really evil Dark Lord, that is gaining power in my world, the real world, and we have no way to stop him. Harry, my friend, is supposed to fight him because of some prophecy, but he has no idea how he's supposed to accomplish that and quite frankly, neither do I. Then I started having dreams about you and your research and Headmaster Dumbledore said if I followed my gut on it, then I might find out how we can defeat Voldemort. I think he was talking about your Reservoir Stone and if you give me the opportunity to study your work, I promise I will destroy anything created from it immediately after Voldemort is dealt with! Please, will you allow me to study your research?" Slightly winded, Hermione finally stopped to hear Fera's answer.

"What progress can a girl, who has yet to even graduate, make where I have failed?"

"You didn't fail. You had to stop your research because of your father. You just never had the chance to go back to it later. As for what I can do? I can try," Hermione replied stubbornly.

The room was silent as the two witches observed each other, until, finally, Fera nodded. "Very well. You will assist me in escaping this prison, and in return you may use my research."

Hermione sagged in relief. "Thank you."

Fera studied her, tilting her head to the side. "What is your name, girl?"

Surprised, Hermione stuck out her hand, answering immediately. "Hermione Jean Granger."

Fera shook her hand, giving her a wicked smirk. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Hermione Jean Granger. You may call me Fera."

* * *

**A/N: And THAT was Fera and her research, hoped you enjoyed the introduction. **

**Next chapter: The Soul Book's world is explored some more, Hermione begins her journey into Fera's research, and has Fera solved the problem of leaving? **

**Hoped you like it and don't forget to review-its great motivation :)**


	11. Hard Work and Troubling Disappearances

**(Disclaimer: see beginning)**

**Soooo this chapter took an extremely long to write. I don't know why I was having such a block, but at least I finally got it done. I'm still a little unsure with it, but I hope the way I wrote the time lapse works and flows right. Let me know, I could use the feedback**

**By the way, giant thank yous to everyone who reviewed and alerted this story. All feedback is welcome and appreciated. Its great motivation :) and thanks to my two betas, Gyffindork11 and McGonagall's Bola**

* * *

**Last Time: **

The room was silent as the two witches observed each other, until, finally, Fera nodded. "Very well. You will assist me in escaping this prison, and in return you may use my research."

Hermione sagged in relief. "Thank you."

Fera studied her, tilting her head to the side. "What is your name, girl?"

Surprised, Hermione stuck out her hand, answering immediately. "Hermione Jean Granger."

Fera shook her hand, giving her a wicked smirk. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Hermione Jean Granger. You may call me, Fera."

* * *

Chapter 10

**_(January 1?)_**

_ So I've decided to start a diary. Even though I've always seen them as slightly juvenile (and of course the diary debacle with Ginny in my second year did nothing to endear them to me, either), it's necessary. Fera confirmed my suspicions: time here is an entirely different matter from time back home, but I guess that's what I should expect from living in another dimension. _

_I should have known something was up. My watch stopped working hours ago and the Grandfather clock that's usually in the Great Hall was suspiciously quiet. I also have yet to see the sun anywhere in the sky, and last night (if you could really call it a night) there were no moon or stars in sight. It was all just pitch black_..._it was __very creepy. Thank God there are so many sconces and candelabras in the castle. __Also, I'm not sure, but I could've sworn that the day seemed to be dragging on longer than it normally would._

_I'm hoping that keeping a diary should at least help me stay a little organized and not lose my days so easily. We'll see..._

**_(January 2)_**

_So I haven't seen Fera yet today. I think she's still locked up in one of the rooms in the dungeons. Without a word, she left the minute we got back from the Mirror Room. I'm a little confused by this; she seemed to be opening up to me yesterday, so I don't know why she's ignoring me now. It's a little rude, actually. _

_I wonder if it has something to do with being trapped in this place all by herself. I once read that extended periods of isolation are unhealthy for a human's mental stability, which makes sense since it's been nearly 200 years (at least in the outside world. I have no idea how time translates in here) since Fera disappeared. Going that long without any human contact can't be good for her health…and now I'm rambling. I really have to teach myself to stop that._

_In any case, with Fera locked up in the dungeons, I'm not certain how I should proceed with this research thing. I was going to wait until Fera got back before I started going through her work, but I have no idea when she'll decide to resurface, so I'll probably just start on my own tomorrow. __It's starting to get dark now and this castle still seriously creeps me out at night. The last thing I want is to be wandering around in these empty halls in such eerie darkness. I'm still not convinced that Fera managed to lock away all those Soul creatures. I mean, what if one managed to get out? __Luckily I found an empty bedroom on this same floor. It's only a couple of doors down. I think it's supposed to be the librarian's room. Either way, it's lovely, a decent size and very convenient. It's also fairly close to the kitchens, which is great. Though I haven't really figured out the food situation here. So far I've only come across the fruits and vegetables that are in the kitchen gardens. I've also seen some herbs, but I have no idea where the meats or breads are kept. I'll have to ask Fera about it later._

_Well, I should go now; it's officially getting too dark out here for my tastes, and I do have a big day tomorrow. I finally start cracking open Fera's notes! I'm so excited!_

**_(January 10)_**

_Hello again. It's been a while, I know, but…I just couldn't find the energy to write a new entry. It's not like I've had anything to share with you since then anyways. I'm just_─_just…so disappointed! When I went to look over Fera's notes the other day, I realized that I couldn't understand a thing. ME! Hermione Granger, supposedly, the cleverest witch of my age, couldn't understand one word in those notebooks. I've never felt so inept before! I mean, the arithmancy equations she used in just the first level of her research were so complicated, it took me nearly four hours just to work my way through the first strand. Four hours!_

_After I decided to take a break from that, and read ahead a bit, I was running across so many references to unknown experiments, projects and people, that I couldn't follow any of her annotations! I have no idea who some of these people are! And of course she also has a tendency of writing in different languages, switching between them sometimes in the middle of the sentence. __It's all just_─_UGH! The only thing I could get a grasp on really was some of the spell work included in making the potion to see energy signatures, but that's as far as it goes. The potion itself is ridiculously complicated. Seriously, Fera's work is so beyond even the Advanced NEWT level projects I've been doing for Professor Flitwick. I thought Fera was just being arrogant and mean when she told me a girl who hasn't even graduated from Hogwarts yet wouldn't understand, but she was just speaking the truth...__How am I going to do this? Fera's not even around to help me. I haven't seen her in days, heck I don't even know if she's alive. __It's all just so frustrating. I mean, it's not just my grades or me on the line, is it? If I can't fix the Reservoir Stone, then what will Harry do? How will he beat Voldemort? I can't let him or Ron down…__Okay, deep breaths, Hermione…Sorry, about that. I told myself that I wouldn't let this get to me again, that I would try to be more positive._

_The truth of the matter is, I should have known better. Professor Dumbledore tried to warn me that Fera's work was beyond brilliant, that SHE was beyond brilliant. Not to mention, that all of her work was an accumulation of years of research. I mean, geesh, I guess it was a little arrogant of me to assume that I could just dive straight into her work, head first, and pick up right where she left off. __I can see now, that this is going to take much longer, and if I have even a hope of bringing SOMETHING back to Professor Dumbledore, then I am going to have to rework my entire plan of attack. I'll start from the very bottom, if I have to! Hopefully Fera will come out of hiding soon to help me._

**_(January 22)_**

_So, I was able to reign in my mini breakdown and re-orient myself. I've decided to work from the ground up, following the direction and process Fera first took. It hasn't been easy. Especially since her notes are a jumbled mess, but I'm working on it. I've decided to start by studying the Energy Signature Potion. It's slow-going, and I've practically lived in the library for the past few days, but I'm determined. __I know that I won't be able to make the potion just yet, I simply don't have the skill, so I'm currently trying to break it down into simpler steps that I hope I'll be able to tackle. From reading Fera's journal, I know that Occlumency is a large part of the potion as well, so I'm hoping I can find a book in one of these rooms that will help me learn it. Perhaps I'll teach myself Legilimancy as well, just in case I need that too._

_A part of me wishes Professor Snape were here. He was able to teach Harry Occlumency (or at least he tried to, in any case), so he would probably be able to help me with it now. Although, Harry says it hurt, I think it would still be worth it. I bet if Professor Snape were here, I'd learn it in half the time. He'd be able to help me with the potion too! Actually, he'd probably be able to help me with all of this. Snide and rude he might be, but the man is brilliant. Professor Dumbledore would be extremely helpful right about now too. I wish there were a way that I could contact him. _

_Well, in any case, for now it's just me (and Fera whenever she manages to come up for air). At least she finally came out of hiding. I'll have to corner her soon to ask for her help.__Though, I'm not sure if she's up to helping me. Right now, she looks…well, she looks like she hasn't eaten or slept since she last saw me, if the bags under her eyes are anything to go by. She's barely even talking or acknowledging my presence right now. She is mumbling and grunting a lot, though. __Is this is how am I with Harry and Ron during finals week? I don't think I'm quite as bad…am I?_

**_(February 3)_**

_Fera is finally talking to me again, and I've managed to wrangle up her help. She was at first reluctant, since she had her own project to deal with (of finding a way to get out of here), which I'll admit is just as imperative, but then I promised to cook her meals for her, and she gave in. If I knew that acquiring her compliance was this easy, I would've offered to cook for her weeks ago. Apparently there are some Pureblood stereotypes that are always true: they have two left thumbs in the kitchen. Then again, with House Elves willing and ready to wait on you hand and foot, how would they ever learn? _

_It's kind of funny, she's been stuck in this prison for at least 200 years. You would think that in that time, she would learn how to make more than just burnt vegetables. Though she has occasionally hunted down a dead rabbit or two, which was really creepy the first time I saw it. I nearly puked when I watched her skin it. I'll have to find some alternatives, and probably skim the library for cooking spells and recipes. I don't think I could survive off of just charred veggies and rabbit chunks. Blech! __So, to avoid that, I've promised to cook all our meals, and in exchange Fera will help me navigate my way through her research, by showing me where to begin and answering any questions I have._

**_(February 6)_**

_I can barely keep my eyes open, I'm so exhausted. I've been literally working with Fera for three days straight now, and I'm about to pass out! I don't know how she does it. She is still running around in the castle somewhere even as I write this. __At this point, everything she's trying to tell me is going in one ear and out the other. I never thought I'd say this, but I can't study anymore! I need a break, or better yet, I need a daily planner. Trying to match Fera's pace is obviously not working for me, so I'm just going to have to create a better schedule to organize my days…_

**_(February 11)_**

_I've officially finished creating my schedules! Luckily I had a new daily planner with me in my bag. I was going to use it for finals week back home, but I'll just have to get another one when I get back…that is, if I get back in time for finals. I hope I do, I would hate to get subpar grades because of my absence. __Back to the point though, I've managed to give myself ample time for Fera's research each morning, since that seems to be the time of day when Fera is the most approachable anyway. I don't know what it is about the afternoons and night times, but she becomes such a crabby hermit after lunch! It's like pulling teeth, trying to talk to her._

_It all works out for me anyway, since that means I won't overwork myself again and burn out. I've already seen a couple of books in the library that I wanted to read in any case, and of course there's the Prefect's olympic pool size tub (that I found the other day-YES!), that should help me relax. __My new schedule also gives me time to take care of the plants in the kitchen gardens and the greenhouses. It's really relaxing working with them. I can almost pretend that I'm back home when I'm digging around in the dirt. Plus, I get to keep my Herbology skills sharp._

**_(February 26)_**

_I was right about the Energy Signature Potion. I do need to learn occlumency before I can even think about tackling anything else. Fera said that it would also help later on, when I delve deeper into her notes. So, for now she is showing me meditation techniques. The key, she told me, is to find and keep an even breath. T__he actual meditation is not bad either. It's admittedly, a little boring and it can be extremely difficult to clear my mind and still my thoughts, but I think I'm getting better at it. At least, I hope I am. So far I've been able to keep a clear mind for five minutes. That's good, right?_

**_(March 13)_**

_Meditation is HARD! You would think that simply sitting in one spot and clearing your thoughts would be one of the simplest tasks, but it's not. There's a war going on back in my world! I have friends that could be in danger, and extremely elaborate research to figure out. How can I just clear all that away? _

_No wonder Harry had such a hard time with this..._

**_(March 29)_**

_I feel like I've made progress with my meditation. Every day, I've been waking up with the "sun" (or should I just say the teal sky) and meditating for at least a half hour to an hour. That's impressive!_─_Even if Fera doesn't want to acknowledge it. __Either way, I feel like I'm ready for the next step. I'm ready to begin constructing my mental defenses. I know I am. I even have an idea of what kind of layout I'm going to use: my old primary school. It's just big enough to hide my thoughts and small enough that I won't get lost in it. I hope Fera approves of it. I think it'll be brilliant! Now I just have to get her to agree to teach me how to make it. I think I'll bring it up with her tomorrow._

**_(April 3)_**

_I'm trying to convince Fera to celebrate Easter with me, but it's not going so well. I was a little surprised that she even knew about the Holiday, since it's a Muggle tradition, but then again, she was involved with a Muggle for a while. Still, she's not enthusiastic about it and was even less so when I told her about the new traditions for the holiday like the Easter bunny and coloring eggs. She thought the eggs specifically were absolutely ridiculous. Oh well, maybe I can get her to celebrate something else…_

**_(April 17)_**

_I'm starting to get a little annoyed with Fera. I know that she is just trying to help me, but her methods are really testing my nerves. After I created my mental layout (which took me nearly a week to get just right), she showed me how to create shields to protect my mind. At the moment, my shields are, of course, pitiful, but Fera insists that she needs to test them constantly. __I honestly thought she would only try to sneak her way into my mind every now and then. Make her presence in my mind known, you know? Instead, every time I turn around, she's smashing her way through my mental walls like they were tissue paper! And it bloody hurts! __I've managed to convince her to give me a break for the next few days, but I'm not sure how long she'll hold out. She's been giving me shifty glances all morning. Maybe I should hide in the kitchens. She never goes there anymore. I know it's not very Gryffindor of me, but I need time to recoup._

_I know I said it before, but I'll say it again, I really do sympathize with Harry now._

**_(April 31)_**

_So, I've finally managed to wheedle my way into Fera's Potion's lab so I could watch her while she works, and impressed doesn't even begin to describe me right now. She's so graceful and precise in all her movements. I spent hours watching her fly around her lab, and she didn't hesitate, not even once. It really is amazing watching a master at work. I wonder if Professor Snape is as impressive while he's brewing. He doesn't really do much brewing during his lessons, so I can't really tell…__From watching Fera, I know I won't be able to brew the Energy Signature potion unaided. There's no way I can replicate the kind of skill that she has, at least I don't have it now. Luckily enough, Fera offered me access to her lab earlier today, so I can practice on other potions. _

_She mentioned that she wouldn't be able to 'play tutor', but I'm pretty sure I'll eventually get her to change her mind. For now though, I'm allowed to watch her while she works and try out a few potions that I've seen in some of the text books I've run across in the library. I can't touch any of the rarer ingredients since they can't be replaced but that's okay. I'd prefer Fera use them for more productive purposes, like finding a way out of here for us._

**_(May 15)_**

_The mental assaults haven't ceased, and Fera hasn't toned down her intensity (not that I really thought she would), but it is getting easier to handle. Just the other day I was actually able to keep her out for nearly three minutes, which, now that I'm writing it down, sounds pitiful, but it IS an improvement. A part of me still wants to stomp my feet because this whole process isn't moving as fast as I want it to, but I know that it just doesn't work like that. It would be nice if it did, but it doesn't. __Besides, if I complain to Fera one more time that it's taking too slow, I'm pretty sure she'll hex me. I'm not kidding either, she really would. The last time I brought it up, she threw a book at me and told me to 'stop behaving in such an infantile manner!' It was a little uncalled for. I mean, yes, I was complaining a lot that day (I can even be mature enough to admit that I was probably being annoying as well), but the book she threw at me was nearly half my weight! I barely had time to throw a Protego spell up! Seriously, how rude!_

_You know, if Ron were here right now, he'd probably try to sneak one of Fred and George's Puking Pastilles into her food as retribution. Or he would try to, at least. He'd probably get caught in the act, then Harry and I would have to help him escape…God, I miss those two…_

**_(May 16)_**

_My mental shields were a wreck all day, and I couldn't even concentrate on my meditation this morning. I've been hiding out under my covers for hours now. I just can't deal with Fera or her tests, or this stupid research right now. I just...I really miss everyone back home right now. __I miss Harry. I miss Ron. I miss Ginny, Neville, and Luna. I miss going down to breakfast in the morning and being surrounded by my friends. I miss bickering with Ron and helping Harry with his Charms essays, and sitting by the fire in the common room with Neville as we talk about our upcoming seventh year projects. Hell, I even miss falling asleep while hearing Lavender's and Parvati's incessant giggling in the background._

_It's lonely here…Yeah, at least there's Fera, but most of the time she's not even mentally present anyway. I know that what I'm doing here is important, but I sometimes wish that I could go to sleep and just wake up back in my dorm room. _

**_(May 27)_**

_I had the weirdest dream the other night. I was running around in my old neighborhood at night, when I felt something following me. In front of me, Harry and Ron were yelling at me to run faster. I was completely panicked and I kept stumbling, until finally Fera came out of nowhere, rolled her eyes at me and told me to jump on her back. Though it wasn't her voice I was hearing, it was Professor Snape's. So I hopped onto her back and then she jumped into the air and flew away. When Dream Me looked back down, there were dozens of pale ghost-like things reaching out, wailing and hissing at us. _

_I have no idea what to make of it, or what meaning it could possibly have. Harry and Ron being in my dreams, I can understand. They're my best friends and I've been missing them a lot lately. I can also understand why Fera was in the dream, since my means for escape rest solely on her shoulders. I can even understand what those ghost things were doing in my dreams (I'm guessing they represented the Soul creatures that I'm still really worried about), but why was Fera talking with Professor Snape's voice? Could it be, because he was the last person I saw and talked to before I came here? That has to be it….Nothing else makes any sense…_

**_(June 13)_**

_Fera has officially declared me competent enough with Occlumency to handle the Energy Signature potion. We'll be starting it tomorrow morning, bright and early. I won't actually be brewing it myself for a number of reasons. The first, being that it's simply out of my league. I still hate admitting that, but it's the truth. It's a master level potion for a reason and Fera was very adamant that it was too dangerous to deal with unless I had the proper experience. __I also think part of the reason is because she can be extremely territorial over her lab and her potion ingredients, but that's okay. I, at least, get to watch._

**_(July 13)_**

_The potion has finally finished brewing this afternoon! It's been a long month and even though I didn't get to help a lot (except for preparing a few ingredients) I was still able to take a lot of notes and if that's not enough, I'll be able to share what I've seen with Professor Dumbledore through a Pensieve. So, all and all, it was a very successful day. __I've already taken some of the potion. Fera told me it should start to work in about an hour, so we'll see…_

**_(July 22)_**

_So it's been a little over a week and the potion has yet to wear off. Everywhere I look, I can see a physical manifestation of magic. It's so amazing. There are so many colors! Mind you, it was a little disorienting when the effects first showed up, but I've gotten used to it. _

_The magical signatures don't just show up whenever I do a spell either. When I said it's everywhere, I meant exactly that. I don't know if it's just because we're trapped in a Soul Book, an enchanted item that is made up of magic, or if magic is just intrinsically a part of every little thing in the world, but it's amazing to see even small dust motes sparkling with magic. It's all so beautiful._

**_(August 8)_**

_Now that I'm using Fera's Energy potion, the next part of her research is fairly easy, or well, it's easier. I've been replicating the part of her experiment with various magical plants and animals, where I measure their daily magical output. Some, of course, expend more magic than others. For instance, more active plants like Devil Snare and Bouncing Bulbs store and use more magic than more sedentary plants like Puffapods. I can't wait until I move onto the Mandrakes. They were always so humanoid to me. It will be interesting to see how their human characteristics affect their magical output. _

**_(September 19)_**

_Since today was my pseudo-birthday I decided to take the day off and just explore, which, as it turns out, was a great plan, since I came across the portrait of Queen Anne today. I nearly fainted, I was so excited. I've read in "Hogwarts: A History", that her portrait was somewhere in the castle, but it never specified where. I've always been hopeful that I would run across her before I officially graduated from Hogwarts. Out of all the portraits I've read about, Queen Anne was definitely the one I was most excited about. _

_Listening to her stories about King Henry and being a Squib in 16__th__ century England was fascinating, and we had a good debate about Muggle and Magical relations in the modern world. I spent nearly the whole day talking to her. __I'll definitely have to track down her counterpart back in the real Hogwarts. I'm sure the real portrait will be even more interesting._

**_(October 18)_**

_I've recently come across a section of Fera's notes that she wrote completely in Gaelic Runes. Yes, that's right, Gaelic Runes. Who does that? By now, I'm used to dealing with her abrupt changes in languages. I've nearly perfected several language charms in my quest to decode Fera's notes (Professor Flitwick would be so proud), and what a language charm won't fix, several references I've found in the library, and help from Fera, have sufficed. However, runes are an entirely different matter. Language charms won't work in this case, and since Fera has decided to disappear (YET AGAIN) I'll have to translate this the old-fashion way…This is going to take a while. _

**_(October 24)_**

_Well, the Runes have finally been translated, but as with most of Fera's work, most of it is still difficult to understand. Even in English. The only thing I can get from this portion of her notes is that after measuring the visual magical output of magical plants and creatures, Fera measured the magical outputs by 'feeling' the objects' magical use, which makes sense. I can understand why she would want to both physically see and feel the differences in magical energy. __The only problem is, I have no idea how she managed that. There is no reference in her notes to a charm or potion she created (like her Energy Signature potion), and Fera is still missing in action, so I can't ask her. In short, I have no idea where to go from here. I guess I'll just have to go back to my experiments with Flobberworms and wait until she gets back._

**_(October 31)_**

_Fera is still missing in action. I've decorated parts of the castle (namely, my room, the library and the kitchens) in Halloween décor, but it kind of loses its appeal when there's no one here to share in the excitement. It's just as well anyways since there is no candy or chocolate to indulge in here. All I was able to make to satisfy my sweet tooth were fruit smoothies, a little disappointing but I know my parents would be in Dentist-Halloween Heaven right now. __At least I got to hang out with a few portraits I haven't spoken to yet, so I didn't spend Halloween completely alone._

**_(November 4)_**

_I've spent nearly all day working through an advanced text on Transfiguration and practicing spells in an attempt to distract myself. I've even tried to use Occlumency to calm my mind, but none of it is working. I'm getting increasingly more worried the longer Fera is away. This would certainly not be the first time that she has disappeared. When I asked her where she goes, she always tells me, 'someplace to think'. She claims the solitude helps her thought process, but she's never been gone this long before. _

_I have no idea where she is, but if she doesn't come back in three days, I'll be going out to search for her, whether she wants me to or not. _

**_(November 6)_**

_Fera finally came back, and she looks as if she was dragged through the mud by her ankles. Her robes are torn, she's covered in scratches and bruises, her hair is a mess of matted knots and forgotten twigs and she won't stop shivering. I was absolutely horrified when she limped her way into the library tonight. I'm surprised she didn't collapse where she stood. __She won't tell me where she was, but there's really only one place I can think of that would leave her in such a state, but why would she go to the Forbidden Forest in the first place? That's where those Soul creatures are. What did she want from the forest that could possibly be worth dealing with those things?_

**_(November 14)_**

_Fera seems to be back on her feet again. She's still keeping a closed mouth on what happened in the Forbidden Forest, and she doesn't look like she'll budge any time soon, so I've decided to let it drop…for now. __She has shed some light on the whole 'feeling' magic thing, though. Apparently, she didn't create a potion or spell to help aid her in feeling the magic in the atmosphere because she already could. It's a side effect of becoming more familiar with your magic over a long period of time…which doesn't really help me at all. It's not like I can just wait around for an extra decade. I definitely don't have the time for that._

_Luckily, Fera seemed to be thinking along the same lines as me and suggested that I teach myself how to do a little bit of wandless magic. Even if it's just small everyday spells. She told me that by not relying on my wand, I'd be forcing my body to become more aware of the magic I use. I do know how to do a couple of spells wandlessly already, but I can't say I've ever felt anything out of the ordinary when I cast them. Maybe it was because I never actually paid it any mind. It's also possible the wandless spells I've done are too simplistic to get a clear read on. __Well, either way, Fera wants me to start small, so she's making me learn how to cast the Hover Charm wandlessly. She wants me to do it every morning while I meditate, so I can use Occlumency (and the potion) to see and feel it more easily. Thank God, I've been keeping up with my Occlumency practice._

**_(December 19)_**

_It's becoming a little easier to cast the Hover Charm without my wand. The meditation helps. I'm SO glad that I learned Occlumency before I tried to tackle this, aspect of the research. Fera was right. Having mental discipline makes it loads easier to be more aware of my magic. It felt so weird the first time I was able to physically recognize my magic. It was one thing to see its purple aura vibrating around me, but to feel the crackle of energy as I cast a spell, is completely different. It was so invigorating that the initial shock caused me to lose my focus. __Fera still wants me to do a couple other spells as well, just so I become aware of how different spells feel when I cast them, so I think I'm going to work on my Bluebell Flame next. It was always an easy spell for me to cast, so it should translate easily into a wandless spell._

_Meanwhile the 'holidays' are coming up, and I think I want to do something special. I know that technically it's not the real holidays, but I think both Fera and I can use a little holiday cheer. Fera seems to be getting more and more frustrated with her work, so maybe this will be just the thing to help her get back on track, or at least it'll provide a good distraction. I just have to get her to agree with me._

**_(December 23)_**

_Six years of Charms class and hours of extra studying have certainly paid off. The castle looks amazing, if I do say so myself. I've managed to charm all of the windows on the 1__st__ and 2__nd__ floors with an illusion, so it looks like it's snowing outside. There's mistletoe everywhere, and I've even managed to make crackers for the big day. They're a little crude, but they work just fine, so that's all that matters. _

_It nearly feels just like Christmas at Hogwarts back home. I might have gone a little overboard with the Christmas tree I transfigured and its decorations, and there might be a little too much tinsel everywhere, but who cares! It's the holidays. It's the time of year when you're supposed to go overboard. Even Fera seems to be getting in the spirit. She's been much more relaxed lately. She even agreed to swap presents with me on our sort-of-Christmas! _

**_(December 25)_**

_This has been one of the happiest days I've had here so far. It felt just like Christmas back home. Fera was smiling the whole day, and even consented to wear one of the tissue paper crowns I transfigured for the crackers. She didn't complain even once. She even teared up a little when we lit the Christmas tree. I left for a minute to let her have a cry. __This has to be her first Christmas in a very long time. I can't imagine what it was like for her being stuck in this place all by herself with no friends or family, for years on end…and all because of her father's greed and selfishness. I'm glad I was able to give her back Christmas at least._

_As for the presents, we did end up exchanging some. Since I couldn't just hop down to Hogsmeade to buy her a gift, I ended up rifling through my book bag instead. I had a few leisure books in there (contrary to what Harry and Ron say, I don't ALWAYS read academic books), and had a choice between a very worn copy of "Alice in Wonderland" (a book I've had since I was 8 and must have read at least 30 times), "The Canterbury Tales", and the first volume in "The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes", which was a bundle of the detective's more famous stories. For sentimental reasons (and because I'm not sure what Fera would be like after becoming acquainted with characters like, the Mad Hatter and the Red Queen) I decided to keep "Alice in Wonderland" for myself. I figured Fera must have also already read "The Canterbury Tales", so I decided to give her my "Sherlock Holmes" book as her present. __I think she liked it too. She's been reading it non-stop today and insists on calling me Watson, which is a little annoying, but I'm determined not to ruin her Christmas._

_For her gift, Fera gave me access to THREE rare potion ingredients and offered to teach me how to brew the Sanabis Draught, a powerful healing potion. It's not quite a master level potion, but it's beyond a NEWT level potion, and extremely complex, so I'm happy. __I really am glad that we did this. This was just what we needed._

**_(January 12, year 2)_**

_Now that we're back on our regular schedules, Fera has gone back to testing my shields and my progress with wandless magic. I've become much more aware of the magic that surrounds me now, even outside of meditation. It's so weird constantly feeling that familiar zinging energy against my skin. I feel connected to my magic and my wand too, now that I think about it. It's like I understand my wand better, if that makes any sense. _

_I've never felt so…in tune with myself before. _

**_(February 5, year 2)_**

_I've finally returned to my experiments, and Fera was right. Being more in tune with my own magic has made a world of difference when looking over her notes. The charms she mentions in her notes are coming to me more naturally now. I'm still having some trouble with the arithmancy equations, but I found a book on ancient arithmancy in Fera's study that is helping me break them down. I'll have to remember this book for when I get back to the real world. I want to show Professor Vector, when I get back. I'm sure she'll love reading it. _

**_(March 8, year 2)_**

_Fera has been acting very strange lately. She keeps staring at me intensely, but every time I try to ask if she's okay, she just gets up and leaves. I'm not sure what's bothering her..._

**_(March 14, year 2)_**

_Fera is still not talking to me. Though she has been taking a lot of my blood these last couple of days. I convinced her to let me recoup for a week. Blood Replenisher or no, I'm starting to feel woozy from it all. _

**_(April 17, year 2)_**

_Fera has officially disappeared again, and I'm really worried. The last time she disappeared for this long, she came back injured and disoriented. Could she be back in the forest again? __If she is, then, why would she go back there? What could she possibly get from putting herself in so much danger? I don't think I can just stand by and wait for her to crawl back here this time. What if she gets injured again? Or worse, what if she gets killed out there?_

_I can't let her die. Not after all she's done for me. As much as those Soul creatures worry me, if she doesn't come back tomorrow, I'm just going to have to_─

A thunderous boom suddenly cracked through the sky, causing the castle to violently rock, which shocked Hermione into dropping her quill.

"What on Earth is going on?" she said, grabbing onto her table for support as the castle settled back into place. Jumping to her feet, she abandoned her journal and her latest entry, to run to a window. Wandlessly unlatching the lock, she pushed it opened and stuck her head outside to find the source of the ominous noise.

There, just over the tops of the spiraling trees, she could make out a plume of smoke steadily rising in the air, right in the center of the Forbidden Forest. She instantly knew that Fera was the cause, but was she okay? Was she injured?

Hermione glanced nervously at the sky. It was already getting darker by the minute. Soon enough, it would be completely pitch black...Fera would be a sitting duck out there.

"Shit!" Hermione cursed, summoning her wand to her, as she ran out of the castle, without a second thought, towards the Forbidden Forest. A tingle of magic tickled her spine as she stepped over the wards that guarded Hogwarts. This was it. There was no going back now.

"Hold on, Fera. I'm coming," the Gryffindor muttered as she ran deeper into the dark woods, with nothing more than her wand and a lot of determination.

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**A/N: ok and there it is, Hermione's work with Fera's research and the majority of her time spent in the Soul Book. I know it took a while for Hermione to grasp some of the things like Occlumency and wantless magic, but I thought it would be unrealistic if she learned how to do all that, and solved the issue with the Reservoir Stone in the span of a week. Research takes time! Besides, brilliant though she is, Hermione is still only a 6th year student and Fera's work is DEFINITELY passed your average NEWT level project. **

**Up Next: Hermione runs into the forest to rescue Fera as night takes over, and Fera might just have figured out how to break the curse on the Soul Book that's trapping them in there. **

**Don't forget to leave a review! Thanks for reading! :)**


	12. Impostors and Good Intentions

**Thanks for all the support, alerts and what not! ****And a giant thanks to my beta who helped me bring this chapter, McGonagall's Bola, even though she was super busy with moving (you're awesome!)**

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Chapter 11

The second Hermione stepped over that ward line, a chill trickled down her spine. Her teeth chattered against the sudden cold, and her breath came out in icy puffs. Shivering, she waved her wand to cast a quick Warming Charm, then, looking up at the rapidly disappearing teal sky, she conjured her Blue-Bell Flames so she could see.

Now that she no longer had the benefit of the castle's height to help her look around, Hermione was having a hard time figuring out just where she needed to go. Since walking in a straight line never seemed to work in the movies, especially when the hero or heroine was lost in the woods, it probably wouldn't be wise to do that. The last thing she wanted to do was end up on the other side of the forest, and completely miss Fera.

So, curbing her urge to charge forward, in all her Gryffindor splendor, she calmly placed her wand on the flat surface of her open hand. Bringing forward all her memories of Fera, to use as fuel for her spell, she whispered, "Point me." Her wand swiveled on her palm in a tight circle, until it finally stopped, pointing towards the north-east. After rearranging her grip on it, Hermione was off.

As she followed the direction of her wand with careful steps, mindful of the overgrown tree roots and fallen branches that could easily twist her ankle, a troubling sensation, a feeling that she was being watched, fell over her. Try as she might to shake the feeling, it wouldn't go away. A covert look over both her shoulders showed that nothing was there.

Her dark surroundings and the twisted trees, that, while under the blue glow of her flames, looked creepy and malevolent, were making her increasingly nervous. The fact that the forest was eerily silent and missing the little noises of life and vitality, was not helping her frame of mind either. "Just keep going, Hermione. You'll be fine. You'll find Fera, then you'll both get out of here, before anything can see you."

She flinched when she heard a twig snap, unconsciously speeding up. There was another snap behind her, followed closely by another and another. With each sharp crack, her careful treading evolved into a brisk walk, then a slow jog and by the fifth snap, she was in an all-out sprint. Branches whipped at her face, as she pushed her way into the foliage. The need to be cautious and quiet was long forgotten in her panic.

"Such a pretty light you have," a gravelly voice hissed in her ear. There was a sharp sting on the back of her neck, as if someone were trailing a claw down her skin.

With a surprised shriek, Hermione shot a Stunning Hex blindly to her left, as she ducked behind the nearest tree for cover. The young witch grabbed at her neck, pushing through her thick curls to feel shockingly unmarred skin. Scooting to the edge of the tree, she took a small peek, but saw nothing more than dead leaves and tree trunks under the blue glow of her firelight.

Still unnerved, Hermione threw up the strongest Shield Charm she knew to cover her body. She placed her wand back on her now shaking palm, nearly dropping it in the process. "Point me," she breathed, desperately, her eyes nervously skittering around.

She nearly wept with tears of relief when her wand, not only pointed in the right direction again, but also vibrated energetically, signaling that Fera was near. "Thank God!"

Mindlessly stumbling forward in a frantic bid to complete this dangerously escalating rescue mission, she tripped her way through the rest of the trees, finally breaking through into a large clearing. It didn't take long for her to spot Fera, who was lying face down in the center of the empty field.

"Fera!" Hermione shouted. Her heels dug into the ground, getting ready to push forward, when a figure in a flowing white robe stepped out onto the field, moving in front of Fera's body. The new arrival's hood was up and their body was turned away from Hermione, so she had no idea who─or better yet, what─she was dealing with.

"Why do you act like you care when you don't?" the white-robed figure asked, in a very familiar voice that Hermione would know anywhere, since she heard it every time she opened her mouth.

"Who are you?" Hermione asked, her wand arm coming up, so she could be ready to fire a hex, if needed.

The stranger turned around, lowering their hood to reveal their face, which looked remarkably similar to Hermione's, only this fake Hermione had coal black eyes─no sclera, no iris or pupil─just smooth, lifeless, black bulbs lying in her eye sockets. She was so skinny that she was almost skeletal in her appearance, and her skin was also incredibly pale, so pale, in fact, that the real Hermione could see the stranger's black veins lying just beneath the surface. To top it all off, her hands were also tipped with black, curved claws.

Disturbed didn't even begin to describe Hermione's state of mind.

"Such a curious little thing," fake Hermione snickered, her mouth widening to impossible proportions, as she grinned maliciously, displaying her razor sharp teeth. "And so inappropriate. A stranger, with your likeness, steps out of the Forbidden Forest, and your first reaction is, not to protect yourself or your companion, but to throw worthless questions into the air?"

Fake Hermione tilted its head to the side in consideration. "You are not as intelligent as everyone makes you out to be, are you?"

"Excuse me?" Hermione sputtered. "How would you even know what everyone says about me?"

The imposter cocked her hip to the side, as she examined her nails nonchalantly. "Again, with the worthless questions. You are a veritable fount of them, aren't you? But, I guess I can answer you─I know, because I am you, your soul."

"W-what?" Hermione took a cautious step back, looking at the monstrosity in front of her with growing horror.

Seeing her repulsion, fake Hermione pouted. "Aw, someone's disappointed," she said in a singsong voice.

"Were you expecting me to be prettier?" She huffed, flipping her wild curls over her shoulder peevishly. "I'm afraid I only work with what I'm given, my dear, and YOUR soul was positively streaked with darkness and deception…Very unattractive."

"No, I don't believe you," Hermione objected in shock, squeezing her eyes shut and attempting to block out the monster in front of her. _That can't be me. This must be some kind of trick, an illusion, like a Boggart or something. Wait! That's it. It must be a boggart!_

Flicking her wand towards the fraud, she shouted, "Riddikulus!"

The spell bounced right off its intended target, filling the young witch with confusion and dread. Clearly amused by her attempts, the imposter threw back her head and laughed.

"Did you think I was a Boggart? Oh, how quaint!" she chittered, "I do love it when they go into denial. I would say that I'm surprised that you are so ardently lying to yourself, but I'm not. You are, after all, no stranger to manipulation or lies. In fact, you've become quite intimate with them over time, haven't you?" Fake Hermione gave her no time to answer. "But of course you have. Deceit and deviousness are practically second nature to you. It's no wonder I look this way!"

"No!" Hermione protested, "I'm nothing like you!"

The stranger smirked. "Oh? Then you've never stolen from your teacher or set him on fire?"

"It wasn't like that, it was the only way I could make Polyjuice Potion, and I wasn't trying to harm Professor Snape. I was just trying to save Harry! I needed to─"

"Create a distraction? Oh, I'm well aware of your intentions, and that's what makes it so much worse," fake Hermione said, clasping her hands behind her back as she skipped over to Hermione's side. The imitator began circling her prey, her eyes glinting cruelly. "You only needed to provide a distraction. You could have done anything! Made a loud noise, created a smoke screen, send off a flare─all good options, but no! You, instead, chose to set an innocent man on fire, using a spell that you had only just learned! You're lucky, Snape was able to contain the situation so quickly, or else he would have had an unpleasant stay in the infirmary."

"I didn't mean to do that! I didn't really think it through!"

"You're right. You didn't think it through. You acted on instinct, and your instincts told you to burn him," Fake-Hermione purred. "But being violent isn't an uncommon thing for you, is it? There was third year when you punched Draco in the face─"

"He was being a prat! What he was saying about Buckbeak was completely cruel!" Hermione defended herself through gritted teeth.

"Words," fake Hermione replied mockingly. "They were just words, hateful and mean, but completely harmless, little words…Sticks and stones, my dear…You should have walked away and ignored him, just as you were taught, but, instead, you chose to escalate the situation with physical violence. And why? Because you crave it, even subconsciously."

The fraud stood behind Hermione now, whispering in her ear, "Still don't believe me? How about we talk about how you humiliated Marietta Edgecombe by disfiguring her face, for nothing more than petty revenge, or how you lured Umbridge into centaur territory, knowing exactly what centaurs are capable of?"

"Marietta betrayed the DA and Umbridge was a foul woman, who enjoyed torturing children! She got what she deserved!"

Fake Hermione clapped her hands happily. "So bloodthirsty! Do you see now? This is who you are! Someone who will happily lead an unsuspecting woman into centaur territory, who will mutilate the face of a school rival, who will attack her professors, and easily lie to her friends and parents. You are petty, vindictive, violent, and a liar!" She hissed.

"No! No, no, no, no…" Hermione stepped back, tripping over her feet. She clenched her stomach, fighting against the sudden headache and nausea that was rising within her.

This wasn't her. It couldn't be. Yes, she had done those things, but it had never been with malicious intent. Well, maybe the thing with Umbridge had been, and perhaps the altercation with Draco hadn't needed to become so violent, and she SHOULD have found a better way to distract Professor Snape…

_Oh, God, maybe that thing is right…maybe my soul really is like that..._

"Stop fighting it. Stop fighting me and just accept who you are─"

A hoarse shout of, "INCENDIO!" came from behind the pair, followed shortly by two arms of fire, that wrapped around fake Hermione's body, like Devil's Snare.

"No!" the imposter cried, her voice becoming a pained, high-pitch squeak, as she desperately reached towards Hermione, as if to drag the witch down with her, but the Gryffindor managed to jerk back just in time, and avoid her deadly claws. Mesmerized and frightened, Hermione watched her doppelganger become consumed by the angry flames, until there was nothing left but ash.

So shocked by the turn of events, she nearly missed Fera, who was now conscious, limping towards her with an expression of murderous rage. The older witch grabbed her shoulders and gave her a fierce shake, as she bellowed. "Get a hold of yourself, you silly girl! This is no time to be staring off into space. We need to get moving and by Merlin's name, keep your shields up, so none of them can get inside your head again, fool! I do not know why you badgered me into teaching you Occlumency, if you were just going to throw what you learned away, the first time a repellent charlatan with your face tries to chat you up!"

Hermione snapped to attention, latching on to one particular part of Fera's rant. "What do you mean, get in my head again? Who would try to get in my head?" The younger witch lengthened her stride to match the blonde's furious pace, the blonde who was now out-stripping her, even with a bad limp.

Fera stopped to glare at Hermione. "Were you not paying attention moments ago? Surely you were not sleeping through the entire conversation you had with the Soul Creature!"

"That thing that was talking to me was one of the Soul-Suckers you were talking about─wait, it was in my head?" Hermione asked, incredulously. She had been talking to a Soul-Sucker. Standing right there, right next to it, within arms' reach, and had nearly died, completely clueless.

Fera looked at her in complete exasperation, continuing in a patronizing tone, "Of course it was in your head, girl! How else would it know about your life? Which, I might add, would not have been possible, had you. Kept. Your. Occlumency. Shields. Up! Do you not realize how close you came to having the life siphoned from you?"

Hermione flinched, her eyes dropping to her moving feet. "I'm sorry," she said in a soft mumble.

With a tired sigh, Fera nodded. "It is of little consequence now, but do remember to keep them in place. That was not the only 'Soul-Sucker', as you say, lurking around, and I fear the others will be upon us very soon."

"Then we should hurry up," Hermione suggested, boldly throwing Fera's arm over her shoulders so they could get to safety faster.

"It may not matter in a moment. Have your wand ready," Fera panted as they wobbled along. As if summoned by her words, three robed figures stepped out onto their path ahead of them. Unlike the first Soul-Sucker, these were modeled after Fera, though they were just as skeletal and grotesque.

"Still trying to escape, Fera?" they cackled, their claws and fangs lengthening, as they crept forward. "No matter how hard you try, you know it is too late for you."

Slashing her wand in a wide arc, Hermione shot a Stunning Spell at the closest one. The spell barely upset the hissing beast, which only fell back momentarily, before righting itself, with a grin, and continuing forward. Taking advantage of the witches' distraction, the third creature, lunged to the side, its claws swiping at Fera's side. The witch was too slow to pull up a shield or dodge out of the way before four, dark claws pierced her side in a savage twist.

Hermione, too busy stunning the other two to get to her companion's side to help, shouted over her shoulder, "Hang on!"

A pained grunt was the only answer Fera could supply. Staggering back, the blonde witch leaned up against a tree, clutching her bleeding side. The Soul-Sucker prowled closer, purposely stepping on Fera's wand, which was knocked out of her hand during the scuffle, and snapping it in two. This didn't deter the older witch at all, as she conjured a large ball of fire between her hands, and threw it towards her attacker, turning them to ash.

"Fire! Fire is the only thing that can hurt them," Fera informed her partner, straightening herself as best as she could. Hermione nodded, blanketing the two creatures in front of her in flame. "Now wand up, there are more coming!"

Sure enough, more Soul Creatures came rushing towards them, this time wearing the faces from a variety of individuals, their now dead victims. Men, women, even children that looked no older than six, came at them aggressively.

Seeing that they were outnumbered, Fera picked up her robes, snatching Hermione's hand, and took off.

"Wait!" Hermione called, looking over her shoulder at the discarded remains of Fera's wand. "What about your wand?"

"Leave it! We have other things to worry about at present!"

"But─"

"Leave it!" Fera repeated, yanking on the brunette's arm.

The two witches ran through the forest as best as they could, considering Hermione's mental exhaustion and Fera's injuries. They wildly threw fire spells and hexes behind them, but that didn't seem to stop the stampede from gaining on them.

Hermione could feel her heartbeat thundering in her chest as they ran. Beside her, Fera's breathing was already becoming labored, and her steps clumsy, leading Hermione to wonder if they were going to make it to the ward line in time. "How much longer?" she asked, flinging another hex behind her.

Fera seemed to contemplate her answer for only a second before she answered somberly, "We won't make it."

She abruptly stopped, grabbing Hermione's arm to halt her. "Stay at my back," she ordered her, yanking the younger witch behind her as they turned to face the oncoming horde.

Throwing up her arms, Fera tapped into her magical reserves and cast the Fiendfyre spell. It was risky and desperate, since she had no wand to control the dark fire's movement, and her exhaustion did little to help either, but it was their only chance at getting out of this mess.

The bright flames flew out, needing no more guidance from the witch and with a life of their own, they viciously rose like a tidal wave and crashed down onto the group of Soul-Suckers. With every individual it consumed, the Fiendfyre grew larger and hungrier, its fiery tendrils starting to move boldly out, searching for their next victim. Fera fell to her hands and knees, completely wiped out.

"Fera, stop the spell! It's going to burn down the forest!" Hermione watched, wide-eyed, as the fire twined around the trees, turning them into blazing pyres. She knew that if they didn't find a way out soon, they would be completely surrounded by the burning heat in a matter of minutes.

"Fera?" Hermione repeated, turning around to see the older witch wheezing on the ground. She was becoming paler by the second, and the wound on her side was creating a small puddle of blood beneath her.

A blackened branch fell to the ground, with a heavy thud, nearby. At the rate the fire was spreading, they wouldn't make it out in time, not if she had to drag Fera with her. There was only one option: she had to stop the Fiendfyre herself.

_Now if only I knew how to do that…_the young witch thought, kneeling beside her companion and shaking her shoulder until her blue eyes blinked open. "Fera, wake up! We need to get out of here, and I can't get us past the Fiendfyre. How do I stop it?"

Groaning, Fera attempted to sit up, but quit halfway through. "Clear your mind," she croaked, "and when you call the fire to you, immediately exert your will over it before it has a chance to consume you."

"Lovely," Hermione muttered sarcastically, standing back up and facing the flames. _This'll be easy…Okay, Hermione, take a deep breath and clear your thoughts. You can do this._ Sucking in a lungful of air, she went through her meditation steps, slowly calming her thoughts, tucking them away until her mind was nothing more than a blank space.

Feeling ready, she raised her wand and called the Fiendfyre to her. Had her Occlumency walls not been up, and her mind not been cleared, the surge of energy and heat that rushed at her would have quickly killed her, but she was ready for it. The second that chaotic energy touched her, she pushed her will onto it, beating it into submission with her own magic until each flickering flame died out.

When she was sure that even the embers were extinguished, she released the spell and fell to her knees. Weariness pulled at every muscle, as she struggled to stay conscious. She slowly crawled over to Fera, who had managed to prop herself up against a tree. "We need to go," she told the witch tiredly.

"Yes, before more find us," Fera agreed.

Getting up was a trial for them both, but they managed, by clinging to one another. Upright, they were able to continue their hobbling travel, though at a much more sedate pace. It probably only took them no more than ten minutes to finally get to the ward line, but to Hermione it felt like hours.

Pushing forward, they fell through the wards, collapsing into a heap of limbs.

"We made it!" Hermione laughed, hugging the Earth beneath her in gratitude. She had never been so happy to see the Hogwarts castle in her life, even if it was a fake version.

Still high on their fabulous get-away, Hermione turned to Fera, ready to bask in their mutual relief, only to find the witch nearly unconscious and deathly feverish. Staggering to her knees, she crawled over to the blonde witch.

"Fera, wake up!" Hermione yelled, running her wand down Fera's injured side. The tip of her wand came back an ominous bright red─immediate danger.

"Damn!" The Gryffindor cursed, peeling back part of her robes to get a better look, gasping when she saw the festering gash there. The wound itself looked slightly burned, and angry. Snaking out from the edges of it were thousands of black veiny strands, that were slinking across Fera's skin at a sluggish pace. It almost reminded Hermione of the black veins that ran through the Soul-Suckers.

She tried a few basic healing spells, then some of the more advanced spells, and when none of those worked, she shrugged out of her robe, bunching them up to push against her bleeding side. That done, she shook Fera awake again. "Fera, I need you to wake up," she pleaded. "How do I heal this thing?"

"Pardon?" Fera replied sluggishly, bleary eyes barely opening.

"Your wound, the one that the Soul-Sucker gave you. It won't heal!" Hermione cried frantically, "What do I do?"

"Purple vial…in my lab…put it on the wound…" she told her, breathing heavily. With her directions given, she finally succumbed to her weariness and passed out.

"Purple vial─got it," Hermione repeated, and getting up, she used the last bit of her energy to levitate Fera's body and make her way back to the castle. She was tired, her head was still pounding and she was covered in soot, but her day wasn't over yet, and something told her that it wouldn't end anytime soon.

* * *

Dumbledore looked down at the small glass orb within his hands, willing the black, opaque tint to return to its usual and preferable state, of clear crystal. It was nothing more than a small trinket created by Trimble after he recovered Rosier's Soul Book, to keep track of Fera's physical health, since he had no way of making contact with the witch, but it was invaluable.

So far, Albus had seen it change into a multitude of colors, some good and some bad, but only twice had he seen it fade into black─an indication that Fera was close to death. The first time, the murky, dark color had only lasted for five minutes, maybe less, a good sign since he knew that time moved faster in a Soul Book. This time, the second time, proved to be slightly more distressing. It had already been nearly twenty minutes and the orb had yet to lighten.

"It's never taken this long before," he remarked, turning to address the portrait of Headmaster Trimble, who had moved to the frame behind his desk. "Miss Rosier must have run into a very dangerous obstacle."

The painted wizard gazed at the orb solemnly. "No matter how much I extended that book, it is still a very dangerous place for Fera. Rosier made sure of that, the twisted bastard."

"I know." Dumbledore tugged at his beard in thought. "I fear that Miss Granger might be in a similar position as your Fera…I worry for her, for both of them…I thought Miss Granger would have found her way out by now."

Dumbledore swiveled his chair back around, letting his head fall into his hands. He was suddenly feeling every year of his age. "Perhaps I should have stopped her from going…"

Behind him, Trimble snorted. "You could have locked her in an ivory tower and I guarantee she would have still ended up right were she is. The minute that girl let the book absorb some of her blood, there was no going back for her. There was absolutely nothing you could have done to stop it."

Dumbledore sighed. "Still…"

A knock on his office door interrupted their conversation. He swished his wand at the door, unlocking it, so that Minerva, Filius and Severus could step inside. He didn't bother hiding Trimble's orb from them, since the spring holidays were winding up, they would find out about Miss Granger's situation sooner or later.

"Albus, you sent for us?" Minerva asked, taking one of the available chairs.

"Yes, Albus, what did you want? I still have preparations to make for the little vipers coming back in two days," Severus said, taking a spot by the fireplace, leaning against the mantle and looking both bored and irritated to be there. Filius, who came in behind Severus, simply took the other chair and waited patiently.

"There has been a situation that you all need to be aware of. We won't have much time to prepare before the students come back, but I'm sure if we work together, we can create a suitable arrangement between the four of us," Albus stated, ignoring the skeptic look Severus was sending him.

"And just what, pray tell, is this situation that we need to hear about?" Severus inquired in clip tones.

"Severus, really," Minerva chided her younger colleague. "Let the man speak first, before you go throwing your suspicions around."

Giving a slight bow, Severus replied with a straight face, "Very well, Minerva. I shall withhold my accusations until he has finished speaking."

"Oh, honestly!" She huffed as Severus waved his hand gallantly towards Albus and said, "You may proceed, Albus."

A small smile played on the headmaster's lips as he watched the playful interaction. "Yes, well, I called you here to talk about Miss Granger."

"Oh, yes, I haven't seen her in the Great Hall once, this entire week! She's probably lost somewhere in the library, the poor girl. She really does take her academic work too seriously," Minerva commented.

Filius nodded emphatically. "I think she's worried about her apprenticeship. She's been working herself into the ground this semester, trying to get ready for it, though I don't know why. I'm sure she could take her NEWTS next week and get a perfect score."

Severus scoffed. "Speak for yourself. The girl has the creativity of a Flobberworm when it comes to potions. She'll be lucky if she gets an E in the subject."

"Oh, you're just jealous that it's Gryffindor claiming one of Hogwarts most promising students and not Slytherin," Minerva crowed, grinning at the younger man like a proud Mama.

"I assure you, Madame, I have not one envious bone in my body when it comes to that overzealous Know-It-All. You may keep her, with my blessing," Severus quipped, his prominent nose stuck in the air.

"She is not a─"

"Please," Dumbledore interjected, raising his hands in a placating manner. "That is quite enough. We all know Miss Granger is a very capable and promising student, but that is not what I wanted to talk to about…Something happened to Miss Granger, and certain actions need to be taken."

"Albus," Minerva began, a hint of worry in her voice, "what are you going on about?"

The Headmaster sighed, pausing to group his thoughts. There really was no easy way to explain this. "Before I can tell you what happened to Miss Granger, I need to tell you about another student that passed through these halls named, Fera Rosier."

"Fera Rosier," Severus repeated, "the one the Dark Lord is interested in?"

"Yes," Albus said, carefully. "She was another student who showed exceptional promise, before and after she left Hogwarts. She was there during Headmaster Trimble's tenor. Perhaps, he can explain it best." Dumbledore turned around, directing Trimble to take over the conversation. "Quentin, if you would."

"Of course," the portrait cleared his throat. "Fera had come to me after her graduation to share one of her research ideas. I can't go into detail about it, since I had my portrait self charmed to keep it private, but I can tell you that it was…revolutionary. Had she been able to complete it, her project would have changed the Wizarding World as we know it." He sighed. "Unfortunately, the research took a…negative turn and produced unexpected and potentially dangerous results. She planned to correct it, but her father, Colten Rosier, an advocate for Pureblood supremacy, found out about it and she had to destroy all of it."

"Why would it matter if her father discovered what she was doing? Just how dangerous was this 'research' of hers?" Minerva questioned.

Trimble frowned, as he looked off into the distance. "Again, I cannot go into specifics, but I can tell you that if Colten had gotten his hands on it, he could have decimated the Muggle-born population."

Minerva gasped, clutching her chest. She glanced at Albus, asking skeptically, "Is that even possible?"

"I'm afraid, Fera found a way," he replied, sadly.

"─But," Trimble cut in, "it was not Fera's intention for her research to be used for such dark purposes. That's why she destroyed it all, so her father couldn't warp it for his own twisted aspirations. Unfortunately, Rosier was not a man to be denied, and when Fera destroyed her work, he attacked her."

"Oh, dear," Filius murmured.

"When interrogation didn't work, he tried a different method, and he…" Trimble paused, his eyes glistening with tears, "he trapped her in a Soul Book."

"Pardon?" Severus' jaw dropped in astonishment. "You have got to be kidding me."

Headmaster Trimble gave a sad laugh. "I wish I was, alas, I'm telling you the truth."

"What?" Minerva looked around the room, completely lost. She shared a look with Filius, who seemed to be the only other person who didn't understand what the late Headmaster was saying. "What on Earth is a Soul Book, and why is it so bad?"

"It's nothing that you want to deal with, trust me," the Potions professor assured her, raking a hand through his hair. "I assume, since the Muggle-born population has suffered no indefinite losses in the past couple hundred years, that you managed to recover the book, before Rosier could break her."

"That is correct. With her mother's help, we managed to take the book away, but I couldn't free Fera. We found out that Colten had cursed the book, so that if it was stolen from him, it would lock her inside."

"And so you just broke the curse, right?" Severus said, though his tone was doubtful.

"No, he locked it with blood chains. We believe Colten used the blood of Fera's Muggle lover, but Fera never introduced the boy to us, so we had no idea who he was. I ended up bringing the book to the school and tried my best to expand the prison as much as possible, so Fera could have a chance at survival, but I was not able to do much."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath. "Just allow me to clarify this for you; you brought a Soul Book, one of the darkest relics in the Magical World, to a school full of children? Are you insane?" he bit out, his dark eyes narrowing dangerously at Trimble's portrait.

"What is wrong with keeping the book here? It would not be the first time Hogwarts guarded something dangerous," Filius added.

Severus pinned him with a glare. "Because a Soul Book is not just a prison or random dark artifact. It is a LIVING, breathing relic that subsists off the souls from any individual fool enough to get close to it. It's like a parasite, a deadly, nearly uncontrollable and destructive parasite, that is only concerned with survival…"

"Now," the Potions professor continued, "Imagine such a thing, surrounded by unsuspecting and defenseless children."

McGonagall paled at the thought. "Dear God, why on Earth would you bring such a thing here?"

Trimble slumped his shoulders in defeat. "Yes, I know. It was a desperate and foolhardy ploy, but it was the only place Rosier had no access to, and there was enough magic on the grounds to keep the blasted thing contained."

Severus sneered disdainfully at the former Headmaster. "Trust me, it was not in the least bit contained. It is probably only bidding its time, waiting for the right moment to strike. You need to tell us where you kept this book, so we can destroy it. I know you were fond of this Fera girl, but with the amount of time that has passed, her soul has probably already been absorbed into the book, and her body withered away to dust anyway."

"We cannot destroy the book," Albus announced, sternly. "That is not an option."

"Albus…" Severus began in a dark tone.

"No, Severus, it is vital that the book not be destroyed yet!"

"Why? What reason could you possibly have, for putting this entire castle in danger?" Magic began crackling in the air around the dark wizard, as his anger rose.

"Because, it was brought to my attention that Fera's Muggle lover had children, and one of his descendants is a student here at Hogwarts." Albus met the eye of each professor, then continued in a grim voice. "I believe said descendant is Miss Granger."

"Shit!" Severus cursed, turning away from the others. He gripped the mantle of the fireplace painfully, as he stared angrily into the flames.

A shaky hand covered Minerva's horrified gasp. "Are you telling us, the reason we have not seen Miss Granger, is because her soul was─was…" The Head of Gryffindor choked on the rest of her words, valiantly trying to fight back her sudden tears.

"No, not yet," Albus reassured them, before they could become too distraught. "We believe, that she was lured to the book after she broke the seal, yes, but that she's also still alive."

The room was silent as they all contemplated this news. It was Severus who broke the silence with a stiff "When?"

"When what?"

"When did this occur, Albus?" The tension within the Potions' master was palpable.

Albus answered him softly. "You recall finding her outside of your door, last week?" Snape's head jerked in a short nod, he still refused to look at his mentor. "I believe that she was lured back to the book the next night. She has been in the book ever since."

"DAMN IT, ALBUS!" Severus roared, snatching one of the many trinkets off of the mantle and throwing it across the room, in a fit of rage. Minerva and Filius jumped in unison at the sudden crash of glass against the stone wall, while Albus remained calm, watching his spy passively. He had expected such a reaction from him. Actually, he had expected much worse.

"Why did you not tell us sooner?" Severus demanded, storming up to the Headmaster's desk and slamming his hands down on the desk. "Do you have any idea the danger you put your precious Gryffindor in? Time moves incredibly faster in a Soul Book. Eighty years could have passed in there while you were sitting here twiddling your thumbs! And in that time, Miss Granger could have been driven insane by now─Merlin's balls! She could be DEAD!"

"I thought she would have found a way out by now…" Albus tried to explain.

"It's a PRISON, Albus, not a fucking vacation home! She wouldn't be able to get herself out, even if she tried. It's what prisons do─they keep their prisoners locked up!"

"Severus, please," Albus attempted to calm him down. "I have been keeping an eye on Miss Granger and Miss Rosier."

He lifted the dark globe to show the others. "Headmaster Trimble created this to monitor Miss Rossier while she was trapped in the book. That's how I know Fera has not been lost to the book's pull, and with Miss Rosier around, I'm sure Miss Granger has been adequately protected."

"It's black," Severus commented flatly.

"Yes, this is the darkest it has been yet." Albus stared at the crystal, turning it over in his hands. "It has been like this for over a half an hour, but I believe Miss Granger is still alright."

He dug into his desk drawer and pulled out a scroll that contained the names of all of the sixth year students─an aid that every Headmaster is afforded. Listed near the top of the paper, Hermione's name was glowing a bright gold, just like the rest of her peers.

Minerva scanned the scroll, then collapsed into her chair in relief. "Oh, thank Merlin for that!"

After checking the scroll for himself, Severus straightened and turned towards the door without a word. Filius called after him. "Severus, where are you going?"

"I'm going to clean up this mess that─" he eyes swung to the Headmaster, accusingly, "─you propagated. I am going to try contacting Miss Granger, then I'm going to get her out and set that damn book on fire!" He stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut as he went.

In the ensuing silence, Minerva turned to Albus with hard eyes. "I am relieved that Miss Granger is okay, and that you have been keeping an eye on my cub. However, do not make the mistake of thinking I am not just as upset about all this as Severus is," she snapped. "I should have been informed sooner, Albus."

"I know, Minnie. I know."

Filius, ever the voice of reason, spoke up. "Albus, the children are returning in a couple of days. Miss Granger's absence will be noticed, and I doubt Severus will be able to get her out so soon."

Albus steepled his fingers, leaning back into his chair. "I had a plan for that." Minerva scoffed at this. Dumbledore cut his eyes at her in irritation, then turned back to his Charms professor. "I want you to get a hold of Alexei for me. He still lives in Australia, correct?"

Confused, Filius nodded. "Good," Albus said, "Since it's widely known that Miss Granger is preparing to become your apprentice when she graduates, we'll say that she is doing a special project for you and working with one of your colleagues in Australia, to observe his work."

"That should work," Filius agreed, already thinking about what he would say to his old friend.

"I'll draw up the paper work and have it in place tonight."

"Just one question, Albus," Minerva started.

Dumbledore looked at her tiredly, "Yes?"

The old witch arched an eyebrow, standing up to leave. "What in Morgana's name are you going to tell Mr. Potter?"

* * *

**A/N: And there we are! Finally a return to the real world and a few more answers. Don't be too mad at Albus! Severus pretty much already put him in his place. heh heh ;)**

**Up Next: Severus tracks down Hermione**

**As always, let me know what you think.**


	13. Confrontations and Plots

**Hello again! Thanks so much for all the alerts and reviews! Keep 'em coming! ^-^**

**As always many thanks to my betas: McGonagall's Bola, Emiliya Wolfe and Gryffindork11 and as a heads up I'll be on vacation this upcoming week and the hotel I'm staying at doesn't have internet...or at least free internet -_- so, yeah I won't be able to update until the following week when I get back. But, I'll try to post two chapters instead of one to make up for it. Heavy emphasis on 'try'. **

**(btw, I know I said this would be a Severus/Hermione chapter, but I needed to get this stuff out of the way first)**

* * *

**Previously**:

_"Just one question, Albus," Minerva started._

_Dumbledore looked at her tiredly, "Yes?"_

_The old witch arched an eyebrow, standing up to leave. "What in Morgana's name are you going to tell Mr. Potter?"_

* * *

Chapter 12

Harry stormed out of the Weasley home completely unnoticed. It was pretty easy, since the entire house was in an uproar over what the Headmaster had just told them about Hermione. Mrs. Weasley was in tears, with Mr. Weasley hovering over her, attempting to calm her. Ginny, Ron and the twins were all bickering and Professor Dumbledore was trying to keep them all together.

They had all been sideswiped, caught with their breeches around their knees, when they should have known better. When Dumbledore had come through the chimney, there had been a look in his eyes that said it all. No twinkle could be found there, no merriment, or goodwill. Instead, they had been somber and…worried, was the only way Harry could describe it. It had been hard to tell though, since 'worried' was such an unnatural look for the headmaster.

Within minutes, it had been apparent that the headmaster hadn't come for tea and biscuits. He had news, and he had warned them that it would be "unpleasant."

Harry snorted. What a joke.

The news hadn't been unpleasant; it had been worse than anything he could have imagined. Hermione was gone. No strike that─Hermione wasn't just gone. She was lost in a dark book, having her soul slowly sucked out, and to make matters worse, Snape was, apparently, her only chance at getting out.

So, in other words, if Snape was anything like his usual git self…Hermione was doomed.

Harry turned, kicking a rock down the pathway as he went, still fuming. They expected him to just hang around and do nothing as one of his best friends withered away. Dumbledore had personally taken him aside to try and reassure him that it would all work out, but it wasn't all right, was it? It wouldn't be, until Hermione was back and safe.

"Except, nobody's doing anything about it, are they?" Harry muttered angrily, stomping into the Weasley's garden and finding a spot that would hide him from any prying eyes.

He sunk to the ground in front of a stone bench, leaning his head back so he could just watch the sky. Dark clouds were starting to form on the horizon, hinting at a storm, but he didn't mind. It only seemed fitting, considering his current mood.

With a great sigh, he closed his eyes.

"Hey, mate."

Harry grunted in response, ignoring the intruder and keeping his eyes closed. He hoped Ron would get the hint and leave him alone.

Apparently, Ron had no such plans of leaving and, instead, crouched down to sit beside his dark-haired friend. "I'm worried for her, too, you know…"

A biting comment was on the tip of Harry's tongue, as he turned to glare at his friend, but Ron's eyes, so stressed and on the brink of spilling tears, stopped him. His anger leaked out of him like a deflated balloon. "You're right," Harry sighed, "I'm sorry."

Ron shrugged awkwardly, picking up a stick and drawing in the dirt. "Can you believe the story Dumbledore came up with?"

Irritation welled within Harry at the reminder, and he had to close his eyes again. He reminded himself that his friend hadn't done anything and, therefore, didn't deserve any of his ire. It was Dumbledore that he was mad at, and Snape, and anyone else who stood by and let Hermione get sucked into that book. Still, he couldn't stop a snide comment from leaving his lips.

"We shouldn't be making up stories, and trying to get our alibis straight. We should be out there, finding a way to rescue Hermione!"

Ron flinched at his tone, but didn't seem too surprised by the outburst. It wasn't like Harry wasn't saying anything that he wasn't thinking as well. Shaking his head, Ron stood up, brushing the dirt from his pants with a determined look. "I need to fly around a bit, clear my head. You want to come?"

Harry let out a deep breath, wishing he could put it all out of his mind like Ron had. Maybe a good fly on his broom would do him good.

He relented, getting up as well. "Sure. It beats just sitting around on our arses, waiting for something to happen."

"Exactly, mate." Ron clapped him on the back. "Maybe we should get the Bludgers out, too."

Harry gave a weak smile in response, walking back to the house with Ron. For now, he would try to be patient. He would fly on his broom and sit on his hands just like everyone wanted, and if Snape fell through then he would take Hermione's rescue into his own hands. He didn't care that he had no idea how to accomplish it. He would just have to find a way.

* * *

The manor was completely silent when Draco crept through the front door. Glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, he carefully closed the door, casting a Silencing Charm on it, so it couldn't creak and blow his cover. There was a sudden pop behind him that could only mean one thing, and he barely had time to throw his hand over the mouth of their House-Elf, Motty, before she could say anything.

He brought a finger to his lips, signaling that he wanted her to stay silent. Motty's eyes got as wide as saucers, but she nodded that she understood.

"What did you want, Motty?" Draco whispered harshly.

The Elf quivered under his hard stare. "Motty sorry, Master Draco, but your father looks for you. He wants Motty to tell Master Draco to come to the studies, if he comes home."

"Fine, you can go. I'll be up there in a moment," the blonde wizard lied through his teeth. He had absolutely no intention of talking to his father if he could help it. The only reason he even stepped foot in the manor, was because he needed to grab a few extra coins from his stash. With the trip to France ending earlier than expected he decided to stay the night in Diagon Alley again, rather than risk staying at the manor with his father.

Motty disappeared with a snap of her fingers. She would probably go to his father to inform him that he was there, which meant he only had a couple of minutes to get what he needed and sneak back out. Maybe less. Throwing a Silencing Spell on his feet, he ran to his room, rushing to his bedside table, so he could access the private safe he had stashed inside. He shuffled through the bags and trinkets inside, his fingers fumbling from his nerves.

"Draco, how fortuitous. I nearly missed you."

Draco's fingers froze over his pouch of Galleons, and his eyes closed in defeat. He had been so close. So close!

Turning around to face the inevitable, he met the cold stare of his father, who was standing in his doorframe, his snakehead cane in one hand and his evening coat in the other. He was grinning, in what one might think to be a charming way─like a shark was charming, just before it bit your head off.

"Father," Draco greeted. "I'm surprised you're at the manor so early in the evening."

"Are you?" Malfoy Senior cocked his head to the side curiously. It was almost like watching a serpent preparing to strike. "I told your mother to inform you that I would be taking the week off. It has been so long since I've had a proper vacation, after all. I'm surprised that this is the first time I'm seeing you, actually."

"Yes, I apologize for that, father. I had made plans with a few others to go touring in Orleans. Had I known you would be around, I might have been able to cancel them," Draco replied nonchalantly, palming his pouch of gold behind his back. With his head up and a shroud of false confidence covering him, he stood in front of the exit, motioning towards the door. His father stepped out of the way.

"You look as if you are about to go out for the night, so I won't keep you any longer. Send my love to mother for me," Draco stated.

Unfortunately, his attempt to leave was short-lived. A cane was whipped out in front of him, barring the doorframe. Malfoy Senior pushed his walking stick forward, and, in doing so, pushed Draco back into the room. The young blonde stumbled, holding back his need to gulp nervously.

"Now, now, son. You've only just arrived home. No need to scurry back out so soon. Besides, there is a delicate matter that should be…brought to your attention," his father declared.

The younger Malfoy moved out from under the silver cane and leaned up against the wall, crossing his arms. Draco was sure that his heart was beating so wildly that his father could hear the evidence of his nerves, but if he did, he made no mention of it. Instead, Lucius sat in one of the armchairs by the room's fireplace. Perched on the seat, he flicked his robes out, so they fanned across the plush surface elegantly.

The way to the door was now open, and Draco could barely resist the temptation to make a run for it and damn the consequences, but he knew he wouldn't make it. His father would have him pinned with a body bind, before he could even twitch in the wrong direction.

Lucius seemed to understand this as well, since he looked at the doorway dramatically before looking his son over with a sharply raised brow. His message was very clear: 'Try it.'

Draco decided not to press his luck and sank into the armchair across from his father. He squirmed a bit, before he could catch himself and clearing his throat he said, "Well, if you deem it an important matter, then I am only to willing to lend an ear, father."

"Good," Lucius purred, shifting forward in his chair. "An opportunity has arisen that will be beneficial for this family, IF handled correctly. You, as the heir to the Malfoy name, will of course play a pivotal role in what is to come."

"Oh," Draco remarked, "and what is this opportunity?"

Lucius fingered a strand of hair, inspecting the ends, as he addressed his son. "The Dark Lord will soon need a spy in Hogwarts, and YOU will be available to take the position."

Draco sat up in his chair, blurting out, "But what about Uncle Severus? Doesn't he already spy on Dumbledore?"

His father laughed sleekly. His eyes glinted maliciously. "Severus is very aware of the game we play. He knows the consequences of not staying one step ahead."

"If he fails, then won't the Dark Lord…" Draco trailed off, his grip on the arm rests tightening to the point of pain. His father couldn't mean what he was implying. Uncle Severus and he were good friends, had been for years. Hell, the two were so close that his father named Snape his only son's godfather.

That seemed to be exactly what his father meant though, since he replied, "If he cannot keep his position and please our Lord, then it cannot be helped." One fashionably clothed shoulder rose in an artful shrug.

"But, Uncle Severus is family," Draco argued, no longer able to keep the horror or disgust from his voice.

His father's gaze sharpened, a manic gleam lighting his eyes. So quick that Draco couldn't even follow him, Lucius brought his cane up and pressed it uncomfortably to his son's throat. The older wizard leaned forward threateningly.

"Severus is NOT a Malfoy. You are, and it is your duty to do whatever it takes to protect this family and help us stay in the Dark Lord's good graces. And if sacrifices need to be made to ensure that, then so be it."

Audibly gulping, Draco looked around the room, frantically searching for a way out. The silver snakehead dug a little further into his throat, when he didn't answer.

"Draco," his father growled dangerously. "You will not disappoint me in this, will you?"

Unable to speak past the obstruction pushing into his neck, Draco shook his head wildly, his thoughts racing.

_I shouldn't have come home. I should have just risked going to Gringotts and got the hell out of dodge. Merlin! Why the fuck did I come home?_

Even though he had agreed, his father didn't seem inclined to release him, instead pressing the cane in further until it was cutting off his air supply. A twisted, hungry smile curled the older man's lips. Panic fully setting in, Draco clawed at the solid piece of silver, trying to drag in air through his abused throat.

"Draco? Why are you home?"

A voice, that Draco would now forever equate to that of an angel's, called out behind the pair of wizards. His father blinked, then immediately dropped his cane. The young blonde slumped over the side of his chair, dragging in a painful breath and gasping as his lungs were filled once more. He turned in his chair to see his mother glide gracefully into the room. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on her son and then the purple bruise forming on his neck. Her mouth thinned and her nose flared for only a second, before her beautiful face smoothed into inscrutability once more.

"Lucius," she said, her voice light and pleasant, as if she hadn't interrupted a very tense moment. "Why are you still here? The House-Elves are about to fumigate the manor with Doxycide and I don't want you breathing it in and getting sick."

Whatever darkness that had momentarily come over his father vanished abruptly as he stood to address his wife. "I was just leaving, my dear," he affirmed, placing a gentle kiss on her perfectly painted lips. "I just spotted Draco and thought I'd have small chat."

Narcissa placed a hand on his cheek, smiling up at him. "Very well then," she murmured, stepping back and waving her hands in a shooing motion. "Now, off you go and if you finish at the Ministry early enough, I'll be at our vacation home in Barcelona, if you wish to join me."

"Then I will see you tonight," he purred, with another kiss. He moved to the door, stopping in the doorway to look back at his son. What looked like regret in his eyes, as he glanced down at his son's neck, was quickly snuffed out and replaced with a hard glare. "Oh, and Draco…your initiation has been moved up to your birthday. You have two months to prepare." With that last comment, the head of the Malfoy family slipped out of his son's room, leaving his wife and child behind.

Draco released a sigh of relief when he heard the front door close, signaling that his father had well and truly left. His mother rushed to his side, pulling him into a hug.

"Let me see your throat," she murmured, carefully smoothing her finger over the purpling bruise and whispering a Healing Charm to fix a majority of the damage. When the mark was nothing more than an ugly, but safe, pale yellow, she drew him back into her arms. No words needed to be said between the two. They could see the storm coming, but neither wanted to voice it.

Draco was the first to break the silence. "So we've got Doxies now," he quipped, hoping his joke would ease the tense atmosphere and remove his mother's frown.

His mother smiled sadly at him, helping him to stand. "The house IS being fumigated, just in case he wanted to check with the House-Elves later," she divulged.

"Nicely done."

His mother smiled slyly. "I thought so. You will of course have to find other accommodations for the night."

Draco waved his hand, dismissing the comment. He had already planned to do that anyway. "Done. I'll lie low until the train comes for us tomorrow."

"Good," Narcissa sighed, pausing in thought. She smoothed Draco's blonde locks away from his forehead affectionately. "I'll get you out, Draco. I have a plan for you."

"No," he argued, his mouth turning down into a frown. "I won't leave you to deal with father on your own."

One sculpted, blonde eyebrow arched. His mother's lips pursed in amused irritation. "As I recall, I am the parent in this situation and an adult witch, fully capable of taking care of herself."

"But─"

A manicured hand came up to stop him. "I will not hear it, Draco. The plan will go forward, whether you wish it or not. And you can either go along with it, ensuring that it goes smoothly, or you can fight it, exposing my hand behind it and making me a target for the Dark Lord and your father's wrath. Which will it be?"

Draco's eye twitched in aggravation at being so neatly outmaneuvered. His mother knew he wouldn't do anything to put her in harm's way, so his only choice was to abandon her while he fled to safety. The only other outcome would be setting her up for death, after a very slow and painful punishment. Both options sucked, but one would at least keep his mother alive, until he could find a way to get her out.

Seeing her son capitulating to her wishes, Narcissa kissed his forehead. "I'll be fine, my dear. I am a Malfoy, and we tend to be a resilient sort. Now go, enjoy your night, and I'll contact you soon." She pushed him towards the door, waving him off with a soft smile.

Stopping at his door and unknowingly mimicking his father's posture from earlier, Draco, his worry and anger clear on his face, whispered, "Be careful, mother," as he turned to leave.

* * *

Apparating behind a quiet, abandoned building just outside of Diagon Alley, Draco took a deep, calming breath. The short walk to the manor's Apparation point had done nothing to soothe his frayed nerves.

He was so tired of feeling so lost and helpless, but there was nothing that he could do, and it wasn't like he hadn't tried to come up with anything. He had formed and discarded so many plans that in the end, he was left with nothing and now, because he couldn't come up with anything, his mother was going to throw herself to the wolves.

"Fuck!" Draco snarled, punching the wall. He hated this! If it hadn't been for his father, dragging them all into this mess, they would be fine─no, it wasn't really his father's fault. His father had been a completely different man, before that snake had come back from the dead. His father had been fine, his LIFE had been fine, before that bastard had ripped it all to shreds.

"Damn, that worthless Pettigrew! He should have never brought that fucking monster back!" Draco leaned forward, resting his forehead against the wall's brick.

"Well, that's an interesting comment coming from a Malfoy."

Draco's eyes snapped back open. His hand went to his wand, as he prepared to curse and Obliviate the idiot thought it would be funny to sneak up on him.

Blaise Zabini watched the blonde wizard go for his wand with a smile. He didn't seem the least bit worried, as he stepped forward, a bag of Every Flavor Beans opened in his hand. He popped a jellybean in his mouth.

"There's no need to go for your wand, Draco. I just came to…talk," his fellow Slytherin declared, turning around and heading back towards Diagon Alley. Over his shoulder, Blaise called out, "Let's go eat. I could use some food."

Draco stared after his friend, confused only for a second, before he decided to follow the other wizard. He was curious to find out just what the usually taciturn wizard had to say, and if he needed to, he could always Obliviate him later.

So, shrugging, Draco rearranged his robes, and followed Blaise into Diagon Alley and down the street into the Leaky Cauldron. The boys ordered a quick meal at the bar, and then found a table in the back, away from curious eyes.

Upon sitting down, Blaise swished his wand, encasing them in a quiet bubble of privacy. "There," the wizard said, satisfied. "That should keep the eavesdroppers out of our business."

Draco leaned back into his chair, his arm slung over the back. The walk to the Leaky Cauldron was just what the blonde had needed to regain his composure. "And just what is our business, again?"

"Oh, I think you know," Blaise replied, and when Draco stared at him blankly, not falling for his bait, he chuckled. "Fine, I wish to talk to you about your desire to not become a Death Eater," he added, straight to the point.

Even though there was a privacy bubble around them, Draco still couldn't help ducking his head and looking around to make sure no one had heard what the other wizard had said. The blonde turned back sharply, glaring at his friend as he hissed, "And what would you know of my desires or 'supposed' affiliation with the Dark Lord's followers?"

Blaise leaned back into his chair. "From the letter you received a month ago from your father, of course."

"The letter from my father?" Draco questioned him calmly, his hands clenching under the table, out of sight.

"Yes, the Howler you received in March. Though, I use the term 'Howler' very loosely, since it had to be the quietest Howler I've ever heard."

Draco snorted. There was certainly truth to what Zabini had said. His father didn't send regular Howlers, for he was much too dignified for that. Instead, the red envelopes he sent were charmed to relay his messages in a subdued, controlled hiss that was, quite frankly, even more frightening than hearing the usual screeching volumes. Unfortunately, the fact that Blaise had known what kind of Howler his father had sent was just proof that the message had been overheard.

Trying to keep his cool, Draco played with the silverware on the table. "I highly doubt you heard what he said, considering I opened the envelope in an empty classroom that was heavily warded."

Blaise smirked at him. "Come on, Draco. You should know by now. All walls have ears, even the warded ones. It's just about finding them…and, you know what my family does."

At that, Draco had to roll his eyes. EVERYONE knew what the Zabinis did, it was just that nobody dared to say it out loud, but, oh, they knew.

The Zabinis lived and breathed off the business of securing and exchanging information. Officially, the family ran a consultation company, but behind the scenes, their reach went even farther, touching nearly every country in Europe, and parts of North Africa.

It was one of the reasons the Zabinis had managed to become one of the most powerful and respected families in Wizarding Britain, despite their ancestry. Their blood wasn't as pure as would be expected in Britain's high society, but it didn't matter. In the end, nobody wanted to mess with a family that could expose all their dirty little secrets.

Catherine Zabini, Blaise's mother, especially, was a legend. Her network of connections, debts, subordinates and scholars was more like an underground empire of knowledge and─

Draco sighed. _And if Blaise has even a tenth of his mother's skill then he most definitely knows exactly what Father said in the letter, and witnessed my cursing fit afterward…Damn!_

Seemingly satisfied with whatever he saw in Draco's face, Blaise continued. "Then you understand."

Yes, Draco understood. There was absolutely no way he could bluff his way out of this conversation. He knew there was no point in trying to lie anymore, it would just make him look like a fool. It would be better for him, if he just accepted Blaise's words and regrouped. So, he conceded.

"Fine," Draco said, folding his arms. "I'm assuming that there is a point to all this then?"

"Of course," Blaise agreed, stopping only for a second as a waitress brought over their meals and laid them on the table. He continued after they were alone again and their privacy bubble was intact once more. "I needed to verify your stance in this war. You see, Mr. Riddle is causing quite a few problems for my family."

"Mr. Riddle?"

"Tom Riddle, the second to be exact. It's the Dark Lord's original name."

"How very…" Draco paused, trying to think up the words to describe it. Blaise beat him to it.

"Muggle? Yes, I thought so, too. But that tends to happen when you're named after your Muggle father."

Draco almost choked on his food. "Pardon?"

A Cheshire cat grin spread across the other boy's face. "A juicy little nugget, don't you think? When my mother told me, I nearly fell off my chair laughing. A dark wizard with Muggle blood, in an ironic twist, is the leader of a Pureblood Supremacist movement," he chuckled.

Completely gobsmacked, Draco dropped his fork, his mouth dropping awkwardly. He couldn't believe it. His entire world had been turned upside down. He was losing his father, he was unsure if his mother would even survive the war, and his inheritance was slowly being chipped away, all because of a man who wasn't even a Pureblood.

He prayed his father didn't know about his supposed 'master' being part Muggle. Draco wasn't sure he would ever be able to forgive the man if he did.

Blaise, still amused, continued, "It makes his idea of a 'great, Pureblood-only world' seem even more laughable, doesn't it?"

Draco shot an irritated glance at his friend. "Even more laughable? Don't tell me you suddenly believe all that tripe Dumbledore tries to sell, that 'everyone's equal'," Draco exclaimed, his voice becoming more nasally towards the end as he mimicked the words of the current headmaster. "As I recall, you said, not even a week ago, that you would never touch a blood traitor like the Weaslette, no matter how attractive she seemed."

Blaise huffed, "I may have dropped the term only to appease the wannabe Death Eaters listening to our conversation, but I stand by the sentiment. I WOULDN'T ever touch the Weasley girl, even if you paid me. Not only are her manners atrocious, but there is absolutely no gain to be had from forming a connection with a family from such poor circumstances. It would be a complete waste of my time."

"So you do believe in station and class," Draco prodded.

One black eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "I believe," he stressed the last word, "in power and in the money that begets power. 'Purity' means nothing in the face of knowledge and wealth. Take all of the Weasleys. Their blood is as pure as yours and yet they have no clout, they hold no important positions in the Ministry and they can barely rub two Galleons together to make half a sickle. Meanwhile, Dumbledore, a Half-Blood, not only holds the position of headmaster, which is impressive in its own right, but he also holds a position on the Wizengamot, and a seat in the International Confederation of Wizards. And if that wasn't enough, he's also the only wizard alive that Riddle actually fears."

Draco blinked. "When did you start liking Dumbledore?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "I never said I liked the man, but only a fool would make a man with so many connections, his enemy."

_Like my father_, Draco thought sullenly. That, too, had been something that changed dramatically, as the Dark Lord's return drew closer. His father, though he had never liked Dumbledore, was never outright hostile towards the well-known wizard, until Potter had arrived on the scene and evidence of the Dark Lord's rebirth slowly began reappearing. Then, Draco, wanting to emulate his father, had followed suit. Blaise was right, though. It had been foolish from a business standpoint.

"Alright," Draco folded with dignity. "I can see your point. But what does this have to do with the Dark Lord?"

"Simple. He's starting to interfere in my family's business, and while he's not hurting profits yet, with the way he's going, he eventually will. And I won't allow that," Zabini stated.

Draco's lips pursed in a suspicious moue. "Why would he interfere? It's well known, even in the Dark Lord's circle, that the Zabinis have claimed neutrality."

Blaise nodded, agreeing. "And it worked for us in the first war. Riddle, fool that he was, decided that a well-kept secret was not as important as, say, physical power and impressive party tricks. So he overlooked us─not that we weren't grateful that he did, mind you. Now, however, he seems to have come to his senses and is determined to recruit my mother. She's spent the last year keeping out from under his radar, and it's becoming bothersome."

"Her hiding from the Dark Lord wouldn't have anything to do with her habit of hopping from country to country to visit her numerous suitors, would it?" Draco asked.

It was well known that Catherine Zabini, while a respected, information empress, was also known to publically flaunt her many suitors, and take extravagant trips around the world to find more. It was a juicy bit of gossip that never seemed to grow old with each new gentleman she led around Britain on her metaphorical leash. Though now, Draco had the sneaking suspicion that Catherine's scandalous love affairs were far less scandalous than the gossip columns made them out to be.

Blaise just smiled in answer, well aware of what some of the pricklier, well-to-do families thought of his mother's romantic ways. He didn't seem in the least bit worried about it, which lead Draco to believe that the perception that the wizarding world had of Catherine Zabini was exactly what the woman wanted to orchestrate.

How clever.

"Back to my point," Blaise continued, "My mother and I are quickly losing patience with this war, so we've decided to speed up this whole process, so we can get back to our lives."

"And I don't suppose you plan to cast your chips in with the Dark Lord?"

Blaise shrugged. "The man has no vision, no creativity. He's like a firecracker. Loud and powerful, but quick to die out. Plus, my family does business with several Muggle and Muggle-Born companies, and if he takes over, he'll likely demand that we cut them out, which will not happen."

Absorbing all of this information, Draco realized that Blaise had a point. Even his own father dipped into the financial world of the Muggles from time to time, though it was never mentioned or talked about. The Dark Lord would probably throw a fit if he knew. Obstinate as he was, he was unwilling to bend in anything, and eventually his ship would sink…but that didn't mean that Draco had to sink with him.

In fact, the answer to most of his problems with his mother and his upcoming initiation might be solved if he threw his weight behind the Zabinis.

The possibilities ran through his head. The Zabinis were smart, crafty, and knew how to survive, so he had no doubt they could come up with a good plan, but whether or not that plan fully benefitted him as well, still remained to be seen. Luckily for him, Blaise had sought HIM out, and that must mean he had something that the other boy wanted, something to barter with.

Draco grinned. Oh, yes. This might just work out perfectly.

"What's your plan? And what do you need from me?" Draco laid heavy emphasis on the 'need', letting the debt, which the 'need' implied, hang in the air between them. Friends though they may be, Draco wasn't going to help the Zabinis if they weren't willing to help him back. It was just business, after all.

Blaise seemed to take it in good stride, as if he expected nothing less from his fellow Slytherin. "First, we take away his followers."

Draco's brows pushed together in confusion, but he remained silent.

"We obviously can't take them on in a full-on fight. The numbers are too skewed in their favor. Not to mention, they're zealous nuts. However, from the information that my mother passed me, your Dark Lord─"

"He's not my Dark Lord!" Draco snapped.

Blaise held up a placating hand. "THE Dark Lord is going through his followers like water. No family, no matter how pure, is safe if they displease him, which isn't all that hard. Most follow him out of fear, for themselves and their family, rather than any true loyalty."

"That much is obvious."

"So, we need to find a way to stop him from replenishing his stock of cannon fodder." Blaise tilted forward. "The seventh years that take the Mark after they graduate only take it because most feel like it's their only option, but WE can give them another option. We can BE another option for them. Aside from them, we can also give the families whose children are threatened another option as well. Without new recruits and hostages to use, Riddle's numbers will take a hit."

Draco tapped his lip in thought. It was a good plan, but that couldn't be all his friend had come up with. "Alright, I like the sound of it so far, but what else? I know that can't be it, and you still haven't told me what you needed me for."

"I need you to help me with the organizing, like finding safe houses, finding out who we can get to, which families are being targeted, and I need help with recruiting for US. You know, help me steer our wayward peers back into line, if they do support the Dark Lord under some misguided notion. If they see you, the Slytherin Mascot and Pureblood Prince, abandoning Riddle for greener pastures, then they may be persuaded to do the same."

_Makes sense, _Draco thought. He was the poster child for Purebloods, and seeing him turning his back on the Dark Lord, may build doubt and urge them to latch onto another cause instead─their cause, to be exact.

Still, there was one other thing… "And what of the rest of your plan?"

Blaise waved his hand dismissively. "That will come later. If you are still interested in hearing them after we work on the first part, then I will of course include you in them."

"Fair enough," Draco allowed. He couldn't blame the other Slytherin for wanting to keep some of his cards close to his chest. Still, Draco had his own cards to consider. "I want safety for my mother and I, and, as you know, I have no desire to take the Dark Mark, so if your plans include me being initiated, then re-write them."

"Completely understandable," the other boy amicably agreed. "Do you already have a plan for getting yourself out then?"

"My mother does, though she won't tell me what and the results won't be favorable to her. So, I want you to help me get her out, once we have a chance," Draco told him sternly.

"Alright. Try to get your mother out and no Mark─got it…so does this mean you're in?" Blaise asked, waiting patiently.

Draco appeared to think it over, even though he didn't really need to. Of course he was going to help Blaise. His plan would help stop the Dark Lord, but in a way that wouldn't be so obvious as to paint targets on their backs. His demise would also take a giant burden off of the blonde's shoulders and those of his family, and to sweeten the pot, he could secure his mother's and his safety. It was a win-win all around, but he didn't want the other wizard to know he was only too eager to help. It might bite him in the arse later on.

So he waited, holding off on his answer on the pretext that he was thinking it over. Then, when he decided that he had let the other wizard squirm enough, he said, "I'm in."

* * *

**A/N: My, my, my what does Blaise have planned? Hope you enjoyed Blaise's re-introduction. Rowling never really went into his character in the books, but I always loved him, cold stoicism, arrogance and all. I took a few liberties with his character and his families' history but...eh, it's fanfiction. **

**Up Next: Severus finds Hermione-for real this time! **

**Review!**


	14. Involuntary Reactions and New Roadblocks

**(disclaimer: see beginning)**

**Thanks to everyone who left a review or her alerted this story! **

**And of course a thanks to my betas McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe. You guys are great! :) **

**Read and Review!**

* * *

_**Previously:**_

_**Draco appeared to think it over, even though he didn't really need to. Of course he was going to help Blaise. His plan would help stop the Dark Lord, but in a way that wouldn't be so obvious as to paint targets on their backs. His demise would also take a giant burden off of the blonde's shoulders and those of his family, and to sweeten the pot, he could secure his mother's and his safety. **_

_**"I'm in."**_

* * *

Chapter 13

Severus sat, legs crossed, on the stone floor of his laboratory. His robes and frock coat were thrown haphazardly into a rumpled pile somewhere off to his left. A wooden bowl, full of herbs and Acheron river water, was placed in front of him and a clump of Miss Granger's hair, taken straight from her brush, was in his left hand. His blood, welling from the slice he had made in his palm, was already soaking the curly strands.

It had taken him all of an hour to get the ritual for astral projection set up. If it hadn't been for the fact that the herb mixture had to 'stew' for nearly half an hour, his spirit would probably already be bounding across the Astral Plane and finding Miss Granger. Instead, he had been left in the dark about his student's disappearances, and now he had to wait, which was bad for Miss Granger, since every second within that book could be the difference between life and death for her. Especially since she had been in there for so long already.

His mind went back to mentally cursing the Headmaster for so foolishly trifling in matters that he knew nothing about. In the past, he had made some debatable decisions, but truly, this one took the cake, and it made Severus itch to strangle the older wizard with his own beard.

Inhaling through his nostrils, Severus reorganized his thoughts. He could curse Albus' name to Hades later. For now, he needed a clear head to make this projection work. With a curt "Incendio" the entire mixture lit with orange flames. He snatched up Miss Granger's blood-soaked, curly locks and quickly tossed them in. As the smoke rose into his face, he closed his eyes and began whispering the needed incantation.

His words died down as a cold breeze swept through his entire body, freezing it. His heartbeat sped up as pressure slowly built in his chest, and a deep red light engulfed his immobile form. Finally, he felt that telling pull in his chest that meant his spirit was being drawn from his body.

Free of his physical confines, Severus' spirit self looked down at his frozen body, while flexing his astral muscles awake. In front of his abandoned body, a spiral of orange-yellow smoke rose from the mixture. It reached out to him, weaving its way around his spirit body, and then sinking inside of him. Above him, the ceiling slowly bled into a dark, luminous night sky. Bright stars blinked at him in welcome.

There was another, sharper tug, and then Severus was flying. His spirit form broke past the boundaries of the Astral Plane, soaring amongst the flickering stars and following the internal compass leading him to his target at impossible speeds.

All too soon, his flight came to an end and Severus felt himself pushing against an invisible barrier with a loud POP. Suddenly, he was standing next to the Black Lake at Hogwarts. The glowing ring of deep red, with spots of orange-red peppered in, continued to surround his body, confirming that he was still in spirit form. The Astral Projection had worked.

So why was he at Hogwarts? Could this be what Headmaster Trimble had said about 'expanding the Soul Book'? By making it look like Hogwarts? How odd. The Potions professor hadn't expected that.

His innate sense of curiosity was slightly piqued, and a small part of him wanted to see what else Trimble had managed to create, even knowing he wouldn't be able to. The small glimpse of the Black Lake he was seeing now was nothing more than a reflection of the Soul Book's world, as seen on the Astral Plane. The only reason he was able to see this much, was because the projection ritual had taken him to wherever Miss Granger was.

_Speaking of Miss Granger…where is that girl? _Severus thought as he walked along the lake's shore, taking in his surroundings. The projection had clearly worked, so the girl had to be somewhere nearby.

He continued walking, keeping his eyes peeled and getting more frustrated with each Grangerless second. Finally he spotted a light orange-yellow glow from the corner of his eye. _Finally!_

Sitting on top of a couple of boulders by the tides, in a flowing green gown, was a young woman. She was looking straight out at the lake, so Severus could only see her profile, but it was enough for him to immediately recognize that she was beautiful. With hair that was a rich chestnut, flowing down her back in loose rings, cream-colored skin, curving, full lips, sweeping lashes and large, doe-like eyes. The orange-yellow glowing ring surrounding her only seemed to enhance her graceful features and give her a nearly ethereal appearance.

Severus felt his eyes travel down the woman's frame, taking in her shapely figure, silently humming in approval. But he had to wonder why the projection ritual had taken him to this attractive stranger instead of Miss Granger.

He knew with absolute certainty that this woman couldn't be his over-eager student. When he conjured up mental images of the constantly hand-waving girl, with her bushy, haystack hair, mousy features and buckteeth, and compared them to this woman, he knew they couldn't be the same person.

_Not even close_, he thought dismissively. The hair might have been the same color, but that was as far as the similarities went. _Maybe I did the spell wrong…_

He swiveled on his heel and prepared to cut the connection that kept him tethered to the Astral Plane short, so he could return to his body and start over, when the woman spoke.

"Is someone there?" a pleasant voice asked, cautiously. Snape turned back around and met a pair of very familiar cinnamon brown eyes.

Stunned, his jaw dropped, as his brain finally caught up with him and supplied the reason why those eyes and this woman were suddenly so familiar. As he continued to stare, at whom he now realized was Miss Granger, the only thing he could think of was, _Fuck_.

The woman blinked and then squinted her eyes, at the blurry, glowing figure a couple of meters away from her. "Who are you? Why can't I see you? What is this place?"

Her rambling questions, a quintessential trait of Granger, snapped Severus out of his stupor. With a shake of his head, he stepped forward, until he was standing in front of her rock.

"You cannot see me, because your eyes are unused to seeing on the Astral Plane. Your sight will return with time and practice, and even though you cannot see me clearly, I assure you, I am Professor Snape. I've brought you to the Astral Pla─Oof!"

Fumbling awkwardly off her stony seat, his previously lost student rushed forward, swinging her arms around his thin waist. Her arms squeezed him tight, as tears of relief flowed from her eyes. An excited babble of words tumbled from her mouth as she hugged him, but none of them registered to the Potion Master's shocked brain.

Snape stood immobile, his arms bound to his sides by Miss Granger's tight embrace. Had she looked up, she probably would have laughed at how comically wide his eyes had bulged from surprise.

_What in Nimue's name?_ Severus thought, his mind numb from the unexpected hold. He was the dreaded Potions Professor, the Greasy Git, and the Evil Bat of the Dungeons. No student smiled at him, let alone hugged him. _Has the Soul Book addled Miss Granger's brain? Was I right? Am I too late to save her?_

As these thoughts were distracting him from paying attention to the witch's words, other parts of his body were more than happy to pay attention to her and the soft curves that were now pressing into his body. The wizard suddenly felt a stirring in his lower half, where he was pushed into her stomach.

Horror filled him, as he realized that his traitorous body was reacting to her suggestive proximity. With no other thoughts, other than those screaming at him to get his student off of him before she felt his involuntary excitement, he grabbed Miss Granger's shoulders and shoved her away.

He immediately began calling upon his Occlumency skills to calm his apparently over-eager libido. He shoved at the harmful thoughts of how Miss Granger's pliable figure felt molding into his and how she had looked, while sitting alone on the boulder, with her inviting lips and─

_No! No, no, no, no! _He pushed again, sweeping all those thoughts away, and locking them into the recesses of his mind, never to be resurfaced again. With a deep breath, he willed himself back under control, utilizing a mental image of Hagrid in a speedo to finish the job.

He let out a sigh of relief when all signs of danger had passed. When his intellect was once more the master of his mind and body, denial was quick to follow on its heel.

_It's just been a while since I've been with a witch, so my body jumped at the first opportunity that was presented. It wasn't that I actually found my student attractive, the same reaction would have happened with any other woman in the same position…and, it didn't help that Miss Granger was so unrecognizable. She's obviously been in the Soul Book longer than I expected, and it was shock, more than anything, that caused the reaction that happened._

As far as lies went, it was unbelievably thin, and wouldn't hold up under further scrutiny, but he wasn't planning to analyze it or this moment later on. Or ever. As far as he was concerned this was a memory that was better left discarded from his psyche, forever lost and never to be seen again. And with the help of his Occlumency shields and an extremely strong dose of denial, that was exactly what would happen.

Unfortunately, or fortunately in Severus' case, the abrupt push and ensuing silence from the Potions Master, lead the young woman to believe that she had angered her volatile professor.

Her eyes widened in alarm. "Sir," she began, chewing her lip nervously. "Um, I'm sorry that I just jumped at you like that. I don't know what came over me─well I do know. I was just so happy to finally see someone from the outside world, to talk to them, that I couldn't contain myself. It was like an involuntary reaction to hug you─"

Severus cringed at the words, 'involuntary reaction', but the witch obviously mistook it as a sign that he was insulted, because she immediately back-pedaled.

"Not that hugging you is terrible or anything. I'm sure it's very pleasant and enjoyable, WAS pleasant and enjoyable rather, since I've actually experienced it for myself just now. Not that I took any extra pleasure from it because that would be creepy─or, well, I can't say creepy, because you're not, sir. More of the opposite actually. I actually meant to say it was inappropria─"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus interrupted her with a frustrated plea of, "Miss Granger!"

He was actually more relieved with her rambling than he let on, because it was just the annoyance he needed to remember that he was dealing with his student here─his very irritating student─and not some random woman.

Hermione's cheeks turned bright red from her embarrassment. "Sorry," she apologized, sheepishly, continuing in slow, measured words. "I meant to say, that I didn't mean to jump on you like that. It's been so long since I've contacted anyone from the outside, that I got carried away."

"Yes, well," Severus replied gruffly, taking a step back to reestablish the appropriate boundaries. "Now that you mention it, I need to know how long you've been stuck in the Soul Book, so I know what I'm dealing with. You did keep track of how long you've been here, correct?"

"Of course, I started a diary the second day I was here, just in case. So far I've marked nearly two years all together. Why? How long has it been in the real world? I know the time is different here, but I wasn't sure how different."

Moving to lean against one of the large rocks, Severus answered absentmindedly, "Eight days," while he pondered her answer. The situation was worse than he had estimated. He had hoped that the witch would give him a smaller time frame, maybe a few months at most, a couple of weeks at the least, but two years? He knew he had mentioned to Albus that it was possible that eighty years could have passed, but that was in extremely rare cases, with books that were fed sacrifices for hundreds of years on end. Still, two years was highly unusual, and Severus had to wonder again, just how many victims Colten Rossier had sacrificed to create such a powerful book.

Severus was shaken from his musing when he heard Miss Granger say, "Only a week? Wow, I assumed that I had at least missed the end of the school year and my finals…Well, at least I'll be able to take them now."

Snape raised an eyebrow, incredulous at how blasé the witch was treating her situation. Did she have no idea how much danger she was in? On the other hand, it was surprisingly pleasant to know that disregarding her outward appearance, she was still the same swotty bookworm.

"I assure you, Miss Granger, your finals are the least of your worries. You should be more concerned about the consequences with staying in a Soul Book for as long as you have," he chided.

"Consequences? Do you mean like the Soul-Suckers that are trapped in here as well? Because─"

"You've seen the sacrificed souls? How long were you around them? Did any of them bite or scratch you?" Severus urgently asked, grabbing his student by her shoulders in a firm grip. He gave her a little shake. "Speak up!"

Startled, Hermione stumbled over her words. "Um, n─no, no! I wasn't injured. Fera helped me get to safety. I mean she was hurt by one of those things, clawed, I think, but she's fine now…"

_Fine? I highly doubt it…but damn! Definitely no chance of getting the other one out now…_Instead of voicing his thoughts, he said, "You were very fortunate. In the future, you are to be even more careful. It will only take me a day and a half to get the ingredients I need to start the ritual for getting you out and the last thing I need is for you to inadvertently get yourself blown up because you couldn't stay still for two seconds."

Seemingly unaffected by his brash manner, Hermione merely agreed. "Okay, that sounds doable. Is there anything that Fera and I need to do before you can get us out?"

Severus inwardly cursed. He was hoping to avoid this topic all together, but it looked like the witch wouldn't be satisfied until she knew the whole truth. Relenting, he explained, "Miss Granger, I will only be getting one of you out. It's bad enough that you've exposed yourself to the Soul Book for two years already, but your friend, I'm afraid, is a lost cause."

"What?" Hermione shouted, dubiously. "You must be joking! I'm not leaving Fera. I promised her I wouldn't. And what does it matter how long we've been in here? Getting us out shouldn't be a problem! Just do the bloody ritual for two, instead of one!"

"I assure you, Miss Granger," he growled, taking a menacing step forward. "I am not in the habit of joking, and if I say that it can't be done, then it can't. And for future reference, I would watch your tone when addressing me. Not only am I still your professor, but I am currently your only hope of getting out of this mess!" He was nearly shouting by the end of it.

The two glared at each other, neither willing to back down on this issue. Severus for his part was a little shocked and miffed that the young woman was no longer so easily cowed by his stare. She had never been a student to buck against authority, or to be disrespectful, unless of course she really wanted to answer a question, but to brazenly square off against him like this? It was unheard-of behavior, and this new backbone, among the many other changes, had Severus wondering what on Earth she had been up to in that book!

The stubborn witch was the first to break their tense silence. Still glaring, though now looking at least somewhat more thoughtful, she asked a simple, yet loaded question.

"Why not?"

Severus grunted. "Soul Books are incredibly dark relics, potentially one of the most dangerous magical relics a wizard or witch can create. Unlike enchanted magical items, the Soul Book, because of its…diet has the potential to become a sentient relic─a parasite with only one goal: to consume as many souls as possible. When you used your blood to break the book's chains, you broke the curse that was containing it."

"I didn't use my blood─well I didn't mean to at least. I don't even remember that night really. I just remember feeling compelled to walk somewhere," Hermione murmured, deep in thought now.

"Yes, I had hoped that you weren't thoughtless enough to go splashing your blood on random magical objects. As for the compulsion you were feeling, that was the Soul Book."

Hermione gasped. "I was also having dreams about Fera a few nights prior to the book incident…Do you think…?"

"Again," he said, trying to summon some patience. He was suddenly tired of this entire encounter and more than ready to leave. "You can thank the book, but back to my point. There are two ways for the book to absorb a soul. The first is through a sacrifice that is killed and offered up by the book's master and the second way is through imprisonment inside of the book."

"But that would mean─"

"That would mean that for every second a target is inside a Soul Book, their soul is slowly being bound to the book, until it is completely siphoned out and the person dies. It can take anywhere from a week to 100 years to accomplish the task, depending on the prisoner's will, but the task WILL be accomplished eventually. Whether it be through exposure or one of the sacrificed souls infecting you," Severus said, letting the witch absorb his words fully.

Worried-filled cinnamon eyes, looked up at him. "I've been in here for two years…" she whispered, her voice barely audible, as she hugged herself. Severus could see her struggling to keep the panic down.

At this point, any of her other professors would have probably sought to reassure her, but not him. Unlike his colleagues, he wouldn't disservice the witch by lying to her or offering her empty platitudes. What he was giving her was much more valuable in her situation.

The cold, hard truth.

"Exactly, the process has already begun for you…Now, you can only imagine how far along your friend is, since she's been in there longer."

"Wait a moment…" Hermione paused to do the calculations in her head. Her jaw dropped as she reached an impossible number. "If two years have passed in a span of a week for me, then that must mean Fera has been here for thousands of years."

The wizard's hand waved dismissively. "Highly unlikely, as she would be dust by now, if that were the case─no matter her willpower. It's more probable that the book has gone into overdrive to accommodate the two prisoners it has to deal with, instead of just the one it was designed to handle. Even so, she has still been missing for nearly two hundred years in the real world...I wouldn't be surprised if that translated to at least eight hundred years in the book."

"Dear God. Poor Fera…"

"Yes." Severus turned to look at the smooth reflective surface of the lake. "Adding in the fact that she was injured by one of the sacrificed souls…the Soul Book has its claws so firmly hooked into your friend that getting her out would be futile now."

Tears welled in Miss Granger's eyes as she stepped back, leaning into the boulder for support. Her hand came up to smother a choked sob. "I─I promised her...I promised..." Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

Now, Severus was never one to become uncomfortable in the face of a crying student. In fact, he was so often the cause of the tears, that he had become desensitized to the whole thing, even going so far as to find some of the more comical waterworks, humorous. However, there was nothing even remotely funny about this situation or Miss Granger's despair, and Severus found himself, for the first time in a long time, compelled to offer comfort to a pupil.

_Then again, how often do you tell your students that their friend is only two steps away from becoming a walking zombie? _

So, Severus reached out a hand, awkwardly patting the Gryffindor's shoulder and flinching at the stiff, contrived movement. Why couldn't Minerva be here to deal with this or better yet, Albus? _Oh yeah, it's because they have absolutely no fucking idea how to deal with Soul Books. _

He searched his brain for something to say. "Miss Grang─"

─There was a flash of burning heat on his left arm, much more intense than he was used to. He staggered away from the crying witch, clutching at his covered mark and unable to hide the small flinch of pain.

"I have to go," he panted, striding away, down the shore, "I won't be able to do the ritual to get you out until the day after tomorrow, but I'll try to contact you again before then. Stay out of the Forbidden Forest. Don't go near any of the sacrificed souls or let them bite or claw you. The venom in their fangs and claws makes you more susceptible to the Soul Book's curse. And for Merlin's sake, don't do anything brash or stupid," he bit out, as he cut his Astral line.

His consciousness went zipping back across the open night sky and back to his body in record time. With a harsh gasp, he was once more in his own body, sitting on his dungeon floor.

His mark flared again sharply, prompting him to stumble clumsily to his feet. His legs, now unused to supporting his body, immediately buckled under the added weight. He was able to catch the edge of his lab table just in time. Regulating his pulse, he slowly pushed himself back upright, flexing his leg muscles until they felt like more than just two sticks of Jell-O.

Cracking his neck, and stretching out his torso and arms, he shook the numbness from his body until he was feeling relatively normal again. Running awkwardly to his rooms, he grabbed his Death Eater robes and mask and shrugged them on, while simultaneously trying to ignore the, by now, pulse of pain ringing through his left arm.

A part of him was worried about what the summons could mean. The pain he was feeling through his mark could only mean that the Dark Lord was upset about something, and it most likely involved him, but those thoughts were already being buried securely behind his Occlumency walls. Rushing out of his rooms, up the hallways and through the gates of the school, he Apparated away, following the pull from his mark.

* * *

With a loud crack, he landed in front of the grand doors to the Lestrange Manor. He took a second to check his mental shields one last time, and when he was satisfied that they were properly holding, and that his memories of the Soul Book and Granger were safely hidden, he calmly pushed the doors open.

Getty, the Lestrange's head House Elf and a pitiful-looking creature, appeared beside Severus. His head was bowed expertly, not making eye contact, while he pointed towards the wizard's robes to take them off his hands. Severus waved him off, burying the usual feelings of pity whenever he saw the broken little creature. Instead, he made his way down the long looming hallway, arriving in front of the large doors barring him from the Lestrange's extensive dining hall. He didn't stop to knock on the door and just proceeded inside. He was expected in any case, and keeping the Dark Lord waiting any longer, even with something as small as common courtesy, would just be another mark against him.

His entrance was immediately spotted by several of his fellow Death Eaters who were standing by the door. He kept walking, his covered head held high with false confidence as he came closer to the center of the room, where the Dark Lord was perched on his transfigured throne of twisted metal, made to look like curling Devil's Snare.

Finally spotting him, the Dark Lord sat up in his throne, his familiar curling around his feet. His red eyes narrowed as he looked down upon the spy. "Sssseverussss…You finally grace usss with your presence."

Severus bowed low, showing his deference. His words, muffled slightly by his mask, were filled with contrite repentance─false, though it was. "I beg your forgiveness, my Lord. I was unfortunately detained in an unavoidable situation, but I came as fast as I could."

From somewhere within the crowd of Death Eaters, there was a snicker. The professor didn't have to lift his head to know that it was probably Bellatrix enjoying his unpleasant situation.

Aside from Bellatrix's attempt to mock him, the room was silent as the Dark Lord deliberated over whether to forgive him or punish him. Severus knew even if he was forgiven, there was a high possibility that he would still be punished. Just because.

Standing from his throne, the Dark Lord descended, moving in front of his bowing follower. "You sssay it was unavoidable…and I have to wonder what could possibly keep you? I have heard from my other loyal subjects that you have not been seen for the last two days at Hogwarts. You were not present when the students arrived, nor present for your classes the next day. Why is that, Sssseverussss?"

Severus' thoughts whirled behind his cool demeanor. _Shit, I was stuck talking to Miss Granger longer than I thought. I should have known that time even in the Astral reflection of the Soul Book would be different. _

Thinking quickly, Severus came up with an easy lie, his voice was steady and calm. "I was on a job for the old fool in Germany, my Lord. I was outside the country when you called, but I assure you I left the minute you gave the signal."

Voldemort clasped his scaly hands behind his back and slowly circled the bowing wizard like a shark. "Ssso you say, and yet I find it curious that a student has also gone missing the same time as you...Potter's Mudblood friend…did you know thissss?"

_Double shit. _Someone, probably one of the more loyal students, had clued the Dark Lord in on Albus' secret, and now Severus had two options: play dumb and hope there wouldn't be any backlash, or give enough of the truth to divert attention from him.

Since he wasn't a man who depended on hope or an idiot, the only real option for him was the second one. _Now if only I could remember Albus' cover story for Granger…._

He should have paid more attention to the old man's floo call, nearly ten minutes after his dramatic exit, but he had still been so clouded by his anger that he had been more focused on mentally cataloging all the derogatory terms he wanted to use on the Headmaster, than the cover story. He had figured Albus would tell him again the next time they met.

Looking back now, he really wished he had paid more attention. All he could remember was something about Australia and a project…

Severus took a shot in the dark, hoping he was at least partially correct. "My Lord," he replied, "I believe McGonagall took the Mudblood to Australia at the start of break. I overheard several conversations in the teacher's lounge saying it was for some kind of project the girl wanted to do for her seventh year. I will, of course, verify this for you."

"A ssschool project?" Voldemort hissed, pacing in front of his throne impatiently. To himself, the unstable wizard whispered thoughtfully, "No…it issss too convenient…and with her polluted bloodlines, she might be the one…"

"My Lord? What is too convenient?" Bellatrix asked from her spot to the left of the wicked-looking throne. Her chaotic eyes reverently watched her master with rapt attention.

A flash of annoyance crossed the Dark Lord's pale features briefly, before he returned to his seat. "There is more to the Mudblood's absence…of that I am sure. Dumbledore"─he spat the name─"is lying about the girl." His answer was cryptic and revealed little, but Bellatrix seemed to understand what the Dark Lord was referring to, causing Severus to wonder if the deranged witch was more aware of Voldemort's plans than the rest of them.

Safe behind his Occlumency shields, Severus violently cursed. He was hoping to hide the truth behind the curly-haired witch's disappearance for a little longer. To the rest of the room, he was just as calm and stoic, and perhaps a touch confused, mimicking the facial expressions of his peers.

"My Lord, what reason could Dumbledore have for making up such a lie?" Someone, perhaps Dolohov, asked from behind his silver mask.

Red eyes snapped towards the Death Eater, followed shortly by a twisted sneer. "If the fool is hiding what I believe he is, then he has plenty reasssson."

The room descended into silence, as Voldemort ruminated over the headmaster's lie and the lost Gryffindor. When he seemed to come to a decision he returned his attention to Snape. "Severussss...you will watch Albus for any more news on the girl. I want the truth about the Mudblood...And if she should return from her 'project', you will report to me immediately."

"My Lord, if you need the Mudblood, why not take a more proactive route?" Rabastan Lestrange suggested, probably attempting to gain the Dark Lord's favor and raise his rank.

"Explain," Voldemort ordered.

Rabastan stepped forward. "Our hold in the Ministry grows by the day. Why not utilize it and have Ministry officials investigate the girl's sudden trip? If it looks like the Ministry is suddenly concerned about the girl, it will discredit Dumbledore's tale and provide us with the opportunity to secure the Mudblood when she returns." The Death Eater paused for affect. "If she is indeed the one you are looking for, then fine. If not, then we can use her for information while simultaneously hurting Potter by depriving him of his Mudblood."

Severus felt his stomach drop.

A cruel grin, gleefully curled the corners of the Dark Lord's mouth. "Excellent…" He nodded his assent. "You have my permission to make your plansss…"

Voldemort turned to the rest of his servants dismissively. "You may all go. Leave me!"

Dark Robes bustled, as the group of magical deviants complied with their Lord's demand. Severus melted into the crowd easily, disappearing from the Dark Lord's view, as he had evidently forgotten that he was upset with the Potions Master. Not that Severus was complaining. He was more than happy to avoid the sadistic bastard.

Slipping from the large room, he made his way down to the Lestrange's drawing room, towards the floo, so he didn't have to Apparate while his mind was still a buzzing hive of racing thoughts. Not only did he have to warn Albus that the school was about to be swarmed by aurors, but he also had to find a way to divert the Dark Lord's attention from Miss Granger, while also still FREEING Miss Granger from the Soul Book.

_Easily done, _he thought sarcastically.

So occupied with his mental task list, he nearly missed the snick of the door closing, and the clink of high heeled shoes on the room's marble floor. Occlumency shields were immediately reinforced.

"Severus, I'm glad that I caught you before you could sneak away."

Withholding a heavy sigh, Severus slipped his silver plated mask off, reminding himself that of all the Death Eaters and their spouses, Cissy was one of the only ones he could stand anymore. More importantly, considering the home they were in, he was lucky to have run into the saner of the Black sisters.

"Cissy, I assure you, I have never done anything as uncouth as, 'sneak', in my entire life."

The blonde witch chuckled. "You forget, Severus, I attended Hogwarts while you were still a first year, and was privy to all your early awkward attempts at subterfuge."

Black eyes rolled in exasperation. "Am I never to escape the foolishness of my youth?"

"You might have, if you had befriended Hufflepuffs instead of your Slytherin brethren, but somehow I cannot see you happily cavorting with a bunch of giggling badgers."

"Indeed." Severus felt his lips twitch in amusement. "Did you wish to use the floo?" he asked, subtlety prodding her into revealing why she had been looking for him.

Narcissa smirked knowingly, bowing her head in acquiescence. "No. Reminiscing aside, there was something I desired to discuss with you."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Cold blue eyes sharpened, watching Severus in anticipation. "I wanted to make sure that you would be present for Draco's initiation."

"Ah." Perhaps it was the strain of doing an Astral Projection through several dimensions, or the burden of the tasks he had yet to accomplish, but being reminded of how much he had failed Draco, suddenly made him bone tired. Some of his weariness must have bled through, because Narcissa seemed to pick up on his lack of enthusiasm.

"Ah?"

Giving himself a mental slap, Severus corrected himself. "I would not miss it for the world, Cissy."

Narcissa looked at him skeptically, as if she could sense the lie burning beneath the surface of his words. Then, she was suddenly smiling, looking relieved and entirely too pleased with his answer.

"I'm glad to hear it, Severus. I know I can depend on you to be there for Draco." Inclining her head, she turned to leave him. "I imagine I'll be seeing you soon, Severus. Have a good night."

"Of course," he murmured curiously, watching her leave and feeling as if he had somehow missed something important. He shrugged. He would just have to analyze this interaction at a later date. Right now, he had more immediate concerns, like getting back to Hogwarts and warning Albus.

* * *

**A/N: okay so Severus has finally found Hermione...with some interesting results ;)**

** Btw, the glow around their bodies on the Astral Plane is a reflection of their auras, which I hope I got right. Deep red means: ****grounded, realistic, a survivor, active, and strong-willed. Orange-red means: confidence and creative power. And Orange-yellow means: a scientific mind, detail oriented, intelligent, creative and with perfectionist tendencies. **

**up next: Harry takes things a little too far...**

**Review!**


	15. Burning Bushes and Moonlit Nights

**(Disclaimer: see beginning)**

**to Inthesouth: The Astral Plane works like a mirror world, or a connecting, in between world. It's like the spirit reflection of the real world, except is encompasses different dimensions, planets, etc.. You can think of it like; Severus looking through a ****shop window. He wasn't quite in the shop, but he was able to see inside and was close to the door. Because he was close to Hermione's dimension (aka the Soul Book), but not really in it, he wasn't as susceptible to the time difference. He was affected (thus making him lose a day when he returned to his body), but not as much as Hermione (who lost more time). I hope that clears up the confusion for you! :)**

**...**

**Many thanks to my betas, McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe! And to everyone else who reviewed or alerted. The feedback is like mana XD**

* * *

**Previously:**The room descended into silence, as Voldemort ruminated over the headmaster's lie and the lost Gryffindor. When he seemed to come to a decision he returned his attention to Snape. "Severussss...you will watch Albus for any more news on the girl. I want the truth about the Mudblood...And if she should return from her 'project', you will report to me immediately."

"My Lord, if you need the Mudblood, why not take a more proactive route?"

* * *

Chapter 14

Disgust.

That would probably be the best description of what Harry was feeling at the moment…and anger, definitely anger. His vibrant green eyes shifted between the two faces hovering over him, looking at him with patronizing grins, as if he were a dumb child they were indulging.

His fist clenched in his lap, and he tried to remain calm as he looked ahead. "I already told you. I don't know what you're talking about. We all knew Hermione would be away for a while. She told us all about her internship in Australia months ago. I just got a letter from her last week and everything─You've seen it!"

Actually, they hadn't seen anything. What Harry had handed over to them as proof, had been nothing more than a fake piece of post created by Dumbledore. It was penned in Hermione's usual flowing script.

The "Ministry Official" in the blue robes, who had introduced himself as Gibbons, came forward. His beady eyes were narrowed in suspicion, as he looked at the student sitting sullenly in front of him. "Mr. Potter, we only want to make sure that everything checks out and that your friend is safe. Something I'm sure you want to verify as well."

_Yeah right…_Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. These men cared about Hermione's safety about as much as he cared about Voldemort's health. If they were really worried about Hermione, then they would be in Australia, trying to look for her, not bugging him and his friends.

The one in burgundy robes─Jaggen, he thought his name was─smirked nastily at him. Harry glared back. Even if the Headmaster hadn't warned him that these men were really Voldemort's Ministry tools, he wouldn't have trusted them. There was just something about them that reminded him of oily snakes.

Harry gritted his teeth. "Of course I care about Hermione, but I know she's safe. Why are you really here?"

Gibbons, who appeared to be the spokesman of the two, sputtered, incredulously. "I assure you, Mr. Potter, we are here for exactly for the reasons we told you! The Ministry would never lie about such a serious topic as this! Especially when it concerns such a-a…promising student like Miss Granger."

"You mean like how the Ministry 'didn't' lie about Voldemort returning?" the young Gryffindor boldly accused. Gibbons flinched at his causal use of the dark wizard's name.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has nothing to do with this."

This time, Harry didn't try to contain himself and let his eyes roll. He was tired of dealing with these two cronies. For the past half hour they had hovered over him like vultures, asking him the same questions over and over again, as if they were waiting for him to say something. Only he had no idea what they wanted him to say─not that he would give them what they wanted, even if he did know. He wouldn't be doing any favors for the Ministry any time soon. That was for sure.

A knock on the door interrupted them. Not waiting for an answer, McGonagall stepped into the room, looking highly displeased.

"Gentlemen," she addressed the two men briskly, "it has been well over half an hour, and I'm afraid I must insist that you let Mr. Potter return to his classes." Her hand fell to Harry's shoulder in a silent show of support.

"Come along, Mr. Potter. You've dallied enough for the day." McGonagall nudged Harry from his seat and towards the door, before the interrogators could say anything.

Gibbons stumbled after them. "Madame! You can not─"

"I very much can," McGonagall interjected. Her lips pursed in distaste. "This is not an official investigation, nor do you have any right to be here talking to our students, considering neither of you are even apart of the Magical Law Enforcement Department. However, on good faith, the Headmaster has graciously allowed you to impinge on the staff and the students' valuable time with your silly requests, but that does not mean that you can drag our students to and fro as you see fit."

"Now, see here! I will not─"

"And," McGonagall's voice rose slightly, "if you have any complaints, you may direct them to the headmaster. Now, good day to you sirs!" Head in the air, the Deputy Headmistress exited the room, pushing a slightly awed Harry along with her.

When they were far enough away from nosy ears, McGonagall stopped her young charge and turned to him. "Are you alright, Mr. Potter?"

Wiping at his face tiredly, Harry shrugged. "I'm fine. They just kept asking the same questions as last time…Professor, how long are they going to be staying?"

"One can only hope that it will not be much longer," she replied tiredly, then straightening her shoulders, she continued, "Now, off you go. You can make it back in time for lunch if you hurry."

Her rescue mission completed, McGonagall gathered her robes and turned down the hallway. Harry watched her go, a question about Hermione burning on his tongue.

_Oh, what's the use? It's not like she would answer me anyway. None of them do._ Shoulders slumping, Harry made his way to the Quidditch Pitch and away from the Great Hall. His appetite had vanished the minute he had walked into that office.

Finding a comfortable spot by the pitch, under an old oak tree, Harry sunk to the ground. His knees came up and he rested his head on the knobby mounds. He let the peaceful sounds of rustling leaves and buzzing flies soothe him as best they could. With Hermione still missing in action, he doubted that he would ever be peaceful again.

_Another family member lost, another friend dead, _came a vicious whisper in his head. Green eyes squeezed shut, and knuckles turned white under a painful grip, as he tried to shut out the painful words.

Unfazed, the voice kept talking.

_You say you love her. You say she's your family, and yet here you are, doing nothing while she withers away. _

Wrong! He did love her. Hermione was like the big sister he had never had. His scar pulsed on his forehead.

_So why don't you fight for her?_

He had tried. He and Ron had tried to find something on Soul Books in the library. Hell, they had even searched through the Restricted Section twice, but they had had no idea where to start, what to look for. Research had always been Hermione's domain and without her, the two of them were left floundering, hopeless and lost.

Besides, he had thought that Dumbledore would have come up with a solution by now. If there was anyone that could help his friend, it was the Headmaster, but it was taking so long! If Professor Dumbledore hadn't put Snape in charge…

The pain from his scar became sharper. Unconsciously, Harry began rocking back and forth.

"Snape," he spat the name out, like poison on his tongue. Snape was the problem. Dumbledore should have never put that bastard in charge of saving Hermione. The traitor was probably dragging his feet on purpose, waiting until it was too late to do something. Then he'd have everyone fooled into believing it was an accident.

"But you won't fool me." Magic swirled around him in a wicked breeze. Small pebbles, leaves, and flecks of dust whirled around the young wizard, who was too busy seething with anger to notice the magical outburst.

Impulsively picking up a rock, Harry flung it at a tree. He looked around for something else to throw and quickly picked up another rock, and another. When he was no longer satisfied with seeing the stones bounce harmlessly against the hard bark, he picked up his wand and swished it in a vicious snap at a nearby bush. Sparks flew from the tip of his wand, and the bush quickly blew up in a fiery explosion. His mouth quirked in a cruel smile.

Transfixed by the glowing flames, he slumped in his seat, his wand falling from his grip.

Orange and red greedily ate away green, leaving behind dead, blackened nubs. The sight was oddly satisfying, and yet…not. It would be better if it were bigger, hotter, the licking flames sharper, as they cracked with power.

_It could be…_the voice was back. _Power like this shouldn't be caged, it shouldn't be extinguished. It's meant to conquer, to consume anything weaker in its path. Just imagine if you had this kind of power at your disposal...the things you could do...the people you could save...like Hermione..._

Harry's fingers dug into the earth, yanking at the roots as he continued to watch.

"Harry?"

He froze, the vortex of magical wind abruptly stopping in its tracks, the voice vanished from his mind. Plant debris rained down on him, as he fumbled with his wand, rushing to douse out the fire, before he looked over his shoulder sheepishly at Ginny.

The red-head stepped over a pile of fallen debris to get to him. He felt her eyes rake over him and his unruly appearance. He could only imagine the sight he made, covered in dirt, shredded wads of grass in his hair, the ground a mess around him.

Bunching up his sleeve, he scrubbed at his face, hoping that he had wiped a majority of the mess away. "Um." His voiced cracked.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny sighed, falling down beside him and gathering him in a bone-crushing hug that came so naturally to all the Weasleys. Her easy acceptance caused fresh tears to well in his eyes, and he clutched at her, allowing his sobs to pour out of him. Surrounded by the scent of her strawberry shampoo, he was finally able to find some semblance of peace, and his headache slowly began to fade away.

Calmer now, he sat up. "I miss her, Gin," he hiccupped in a shaky voice. "I miss her, and I'm scared that we won't get her out in time."

Ginny squeezed him tighter, letting her own fears leak through her voice. "I know," she whispered, then added with a smile, "but you forget, she's dealing with a Soul BOOK, and if anyone can conquer a book, it's Hermione."

Harry chuckled weakly, settling back against his oak tree. He brought her closer into his side and rested his head on top of hers, releasing a deep sigh. "I hope you're right Gin…I hope you're right."

* * *

Located in one of the grand library's seating nooks, Hermione toyed with the paper corners of the book on Astral Projection Theory lying in her lap. Her feet were up and tucked securely underneath her folded legs, as she snuggled deeper into the cushions of what she now considered to be 'her' recliner.

Over the past two months, during breaks and when she had free time, she had taken to reading the book, going through every chapter and section with a fine-toothed comb, until she had mentally consumed every minuet detail and fascinating fact. She had even done a fair bit of experimenting in the Astral Plane, after reading the chapter on the rituals and potions needed to split the spirit from the body for Astral traveling.

She had spent hours in her room, creating, then recreating the herbal mixture, and practicing the inflections and tones for the incantation. The spell had also required a hefty amount of mental fortitude, but luckily, Hermione had a more than adequate education in Occlumency at her disposal.

Unfortunately, with no hair, she had no way to contact anyone. A shame really. She would have loved to talk to her parents again, or Harry and Ron, but she still had fun, just wandering aimlessly around in her spirit form, among the vast and unblinking stars of the Astral Plane.

She could understand why the book had warned its readers not to tarry for too long in the boundless space. It was such a freeing experience that she could easily see why so many people lost themselves in the sensations of the in-between world, never to find their way out again. A shiver traveled up her spine just thinking about it.

The fear of the same thing happening to her had kept her tether line as strong as steel and her visits to the Astral Plane extremely short. She had a purpose for being there, after all─aside from satisfying her general curiosity. She had also wanted to be prepared for Professor Snape's next visit.

The restrictions to her senses had not been an enjoyable experience, and though it was a tad immature of her, the know-it-all in her had not been pleased with being out of the loop. Even though her time here in the Soul Book had helped her deal with the fact that sometimes she just didn't and couldn't know it all, it didn't mean that the feeling of ignorance was any less irritating.

Prior to the professor's summons, Hermione had had no idea that Astral Projection was possible…actually she had had no idea that it was even a thing. So she had scoured the library for books on the subject, experimented and fine-tuned her senses while in spirit form until every detail had been just as crisp as it was in her own world. Until she had studied all of the nuances of the Astral Plane, including those on the subject of spirit auras.

Figuring out what her own orange-yellow aura meant, had been a pleasant surprise. _A leaning towards science and creative intelligence, detail-oriented and a perfectionist with a love for mentally challenging projects_. She had found herself quite satisfied with the result, and after finding out the meaning of her own color, her eyes couldn't help but search out the meaning behind the professor's. Even though she hadn't really seen him, she did remember seeing that mesmerizing deep red. It was such a strong, lulling color that it would be hard for anyone to forget.

_Realistic and centered, with a strong will-power, active and self-sufficient_─_a survivor. _Oddly enough, she was satisfied with that description as well. She felt like it fit her mysterious and often rude professor.

Not that he had seemed all that nasty his last visit. In fact, aside from a few biting remarks and his initial shove─

_Which was entirely my fault_

─he had been very patient and solicitous and, dare she say, almost concerned at one point.

She had to wonder if the change had been a result of her (as she now understood it to be) dire circumstances, which had tempered his more unpleasant tendencies, or if it had been because they were outside the classroom dynamic, away from suspicious eyes, and had thus no longer been restricted by their previous roles of obedient Muggle-Born student and reviled Death Eater teacher.

_But that would mean he wasn't at all the man I thought he was_….and didn't that just boggle the mind?

It was entirely possible. She, Harry and Ron had been so wrong about him on numerous occasions already. Their first year, when they had thought he was the one trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone, immediately came to mind as evidence. Then, finding out that he was actually a spy for the Order (though Harry and Ron still refused to believe it). Following that train of thought, it would stand to reason that the persona of hateful, manipulative, rude and short-tempered bastard he wore in front of others, was just a ruse.

_Then again, I could be seeing dragons where there's just smoke and over-analyzing our entire exchange. It could be that he had just been tired when he contacted me, making him act out of character. _

She sighed, shoving her book away and resting her head against the armchair's back. She WAS over-analyzing their conversation. She knew the reason behind it and why she had suddenly become so obsessed with Astral Projection wasn't really because she was interested in learning about it. Deep down, she knew that it wasn't really curiosity propelling her forward, but a deeper more troubling motive.

She was avoiding Fera.

Not very Gryffindorly of her, she knew, but every time she thought about her new friend and her hopeless circumstance, she wanted to cry in frustration. The woman was completely mental fifty percent of the time, and prone to throwing things in anger, could be condescending and arrogant, but she was also brilliant, funny (though it was mostly unintentional), and thoughtful. Through their time together, Hermione had come to see Fera as more than just a key to winning the war, but a mentor to learn from, and a friend with which to share the burden of being trapped in a strange world.

_"The Soul Book has its claws so firmly hooked into your friend that getting her out would be futile now…"_

Snape's words still raced around in her head, and Hermione had to once again fight back tears. Even worse was the confirmation she had received once she was released form the Astral Plane.

The stubborn Gryffindor, steeped in denial, had tracked down the other woman and asked her how long she had been inside the Soul Book, and what the injury from the Soul-Sucker had done to her.

Even as the blonde witch had tried to laugh it off with a patronizing comment, Hermione hadn't missed the flash of stricken grief that briefly took over her features. It was all the answer the Gryffindor had needed.

Fera had locked herself in her laboratory shortly after and had not come out for a week. Meanwhile, Hermione, just as unwilling to deal with the new reality of their situation, had found refuge in the library where she had devoted herself to decoding the Astral Plane.

"Watson!" The double doors of the library's entrance banged open with Fera's arrival. Her robes flew behind her, snapping viciously as she practically flew towards the seated witch.

Hermione rolled her eyes, her previous worries forgotten in the wake of Fera's uncharacteristically jovial attitude. "I should have never given you that book! In case you've forgotten, my name is Hermione, Fera. HER-MIO-NE."

"Unimportant, Watson! What IS important is that I have finally done it!" Fera grinned, snatching the younger witch's wrist and yanking her along as she ran down the empty halls.

Hermione's teeth clinked unpleasantly as they sprinted down another set of stairs and towards the mirror room. She finally managed to wiggle her arm out of Fera's death grip, just as the other woman was throwing open the door, and ushering her inside.

"Fera, what on Earth are you talking about? What have you done?"

Marching over to the large, ornate mirror, the blonde turned, proudly displaying the amber colored potion in her hands.

Fera shook the glass vial in excitement. "Do you not have eyes, girl? I have finished the potion that should allow us to travel through the mirror."

Annoyance was immediately replaced with wonder as Hermione dashed forward to get a better look at the potion. "You've finished it?" Hermione exclaimed. "But how? I thought you were having trouble with the moonseeds and blood petals."

"Ha! Trifle impediments at most, I assure you! Once I was able to stabilize the Hornbeam sap, it was all elementary," Fera boasted, uncorking the vial and dabbing a small drop on her tongue. There was a pause, then a noticeable shiver.

Striding over to the mirror, Fera splashed the cool glass with a small amount as well. As the potion dripped down the stubborn piece of furniture, she began chanting under her breath. Her words grew louder in an lulling song, as her hands rose in front of her, palms open. They glowed, flashing with a brilliant light that engulfed the mirror and then the room briefly, before returning to their normal dim state. Fera stepped back, looking over the difficult mirror with a happy sigh.

She smiled at Hermione, pushing the rest of the potion under the young woman's nose next. "Well, what are you waiting for? Tongue out!" She barked, her mouth twitching in impatience.

After experiencing how very wrong some of the older and 'supposedly wiser' witch's experiments could go, Hermione instantly leaned away from the foreboding potion.

"First and foremost, what is this potion supposed to do?" Hermione needed to ask, because although she trusted Fera with her life, that trust did not extend to blindly consuming unknown concoctions.

"Must I repeat myself a hundred times? It will allow you to go through the mirror. Really, Hermione, where is your head today?"

"Yes, but HOW, Fera?"

There was a restless huff, but Fera finally stopped trying to shove the potion down her pupil's throat long enough to explain. "It should rearrange your magical signature enough so that it can easily blend with that of the barrier's, allowing you to slip through unnoticed.

Hermione took the vial, observing it thoughtfully. "Any side affects I should be aware of?"

Fera shrugged. "There are none that I can think of. The trial test ran smoothly enough. Of course, that trial was performed on plants and not humans, but it is the same principle."

_Oh God…_Hermione closed her eyes, resisting the urge to rub at her burgeoning headache, an urge that was becoming all the more common around Fera. She turned the potion over in her hand.

There was a high chance that the potion could backfire, and the initial pain she felt when she first touched the barrier, could magnify to fatal proportions. On the other hand, it could be as Fera said─their one ticket out of here.

_This could be it. Professor Snape could be wrong. _

Screwing up her courage, Hermione popped off the top and let one single drop land on her tongue. A chill ran through her body, and her magic seemed to zing with energy. "Oh my."

"Indeed. Invigorating, is it not?" Fera smiled beside her. "Shall you go first, or shall I?"

"I'll go," Hermione declared, staring at the mirror that could so easily cause her imaginable pain. "You're better with Healing Charms than I am, so if anything happens to me, you'll at least have a better shot at saving me than I would with you."

Fera looked at her for a moment, then said, "Very well."

"Alright then." Breathing through her nose, Hermione stepped forward, her hand outstretched. Trembling fingers pressed against the cool glass and met no pain. Encouraged, she pushed harder, marveling at the feel of the firm glass becoming flexible and elastic under the added pressure. Her fingers sunk into the glass, pulling at the surface, until her whole hand was covered in the rubber like substance. She pulled her hand out, rubbing it against her shirt. "Wow. That was certainly weird."

Fera eagerly moved forward. "But did it work? What did you feel?"

"Well, nothing really. There was no pain like last time, and when I pushed against the glass. it started to bend inward, like it was made of rubber. It was still sturdy, though. No matter how much I pushed, I couldn't break through."

"Hmm…I see," the blonde muttered. "Still, this is great progress."

"You'll probably only need to tweak it a bit more," Hermione agreed, then had a thought. "Does the potion work for you even though you don't share my blood?"

"It should." Fera eyed the mirror thoughtfully. "I've used your blood in the base, so it should align my magic, just as it did yours." The witch took a step forward as she talked, raising her own hand and placing it against the mirror's glass without hesitation.

Almost instantaneously, the mirror vibrated angrily. A dangerous tremor of magic, like a whip, violently lashed out at the woman standing before it, and Fera fell to her knees hard, crying out in pain, as her body convulsed.

"Fera!" Hermione was at her side in an instant, holding the quivering witch up. Sunken eyes fluttered closed and blood trickled from her pert nose.

With the last of her strength, Fera weakly moaned, "Damn", before she fell limp and unconscious.

Carefully, Hermione lowered them both to the ground, taking out a handkerchief to wipe her friend's face clean with shaky hands. The truth of Professor Snape's words began ringing through her head, over and over again.

_"The Soul Book has its claws so firmly hooked into your friend that getting her out would be futile now…"_

* * *

For an hour, Hermione sat with Fera in her lap. Her tears having dried up a while ago, she was calm once more and thinking rationally.

This issue with Fera was definitely a problem, but it wasn't a hopeless cause. She couldn't accept that, no matter what Snape said. Fera had gone through too much for Hermione to simply give up on her. Her research that she tirelessly labored over, had been turned against her. Her had father had betrayed her, and tried to use her to commit genocide. She lost her lover, and her mother and had been forced into an isolation that was slowly chipping away at her mind.

And yet, through all of that, she was still sane, still standing and fighting for her freedom.

_Damn it! I can't let her down, _Hermione thought, biting her lip. She just had to figure out how she was going to manage that.

Fera had come a long way with the solution. The potion that she had created today, though it hadn't worked for its creator, was still close to the answer

Hermione was sure the problem didn't lie in the potion maker, rather in the resources. Sure, the gardens here were plentiful, and had a lot to offer, and there were a variety of creatures to be found hiding on the grounds, but that still wasn't a lot. Not compared to the ever-growing list of ingredients used in your every day potion. Even first year potions kits included ingredients that couldn't be found in the UK.

Luckily for Fera, she also had access to the Forbidden Forest and all the vast resources it held─not that it was exactly wise to visit that dangerous place. Not with all those Soul-Suckers lurking around, just waiting for their next victim.

And the Hogwart's library, while extensive, didn't hold all the answers. So maybe that's what Hermione would do after Snape got her out.

_Yes…that could work_, she thought, a plan already forming in her head.

When she returned to her world, she would not only continue Fera's research on the Reservoir Stone, but she would support her friend from the outside, doing whatever she could. Whether that meant looking through old texts on the subject, or gathering ingredients to somehow transfer to Fera, she would do it. Perhaps, she would also talk to Professor Dumbledore or, better yet, Professor Snape. The knowledgable wizard seemed to have a lot of information on Soul Books that she wanted to extract from him. He seemed convinced that Fera was a lost cause, but that didn't matter. She would just have to get him to change his mind.

On her lap, Fera began to stir. Her blue eyes blinked opened, her gaze still bleary and unfocused. A pleased sigh left Hermione. She stood carefully, helping the still shaken woman to her feet, grabbing her elbow when she teetered to the left.

"How long was I unconscious?" Fera asked in a rusty voice.

"About an hour," Hermione replied, snaking an arm around her mentor's waist. With cautious steps, the two witches walked out of the room, leaving the mirror and their temporary setback behind them.

"The butterfly wings."

"Pardon?" Hermione turned to her partner, puzzled.

"The butterfly wings. I ground them into a fine powder, then created a paste with it, only"─Fera paused to catch her breath─"only I used rose oil as a base for the paste. I should have used Sage Dew, and─"

Hermione interrupted her with a quiet, "Fera." She placed a calming hand on her friend's shoulder. "Leave it for now. You won't do yourself or your work any favors at the moment. Rest first, get your head together, then go back to your lab."

Stopping in front of a window, the blonde heaved a great sigh. "You are right. I know it." Suddenly, she grabbed Hermione's shoulders in a fierce grip, her eyes pleading and desperate. "But Hermione, I'm so close! I can feel it!"

Hermione had a response prepared and ready to fall from her lips, when something astonishing, shimmering on Fera's clenched hands, caught her attention. She blinked, then blinked again, wondering if her tired eyes were playing tricks, but no! It was really there. She looked out the window, her heart squeezing in her chest at the amazing, miraculous sight.

"Fera, look outside!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice shaking with emotions. "Please tell me that I'm not going crazy and you're seeing the same thing I am."

"Hermione, what are you─" There was a trembling gasp. "Is that─is that…?"

Hermione finished her sentence. "The moon."

It hung in the sky. A luminescent quarter moon crescent, surrounded by a spattering of twinkling stars. To anyone else, the sight would have been commonplace, one mundane picture among many, but for the two women who had gone so long without the soft, caressing light against their skin, it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Hermione was the first to break the silence. When she spoke, her voice was full of awe. "Your potion. It worked, or at least it's really close." She was practically bubbling with excitement.

Beside her, Fera was immobile, except for the smallest quivering in her jaw. A steady stream of tears were silently trailing down her cheeks. Her owlishly widened eyes had yet to blink, as if she were afraid that if her eyelids closed, for even the briefest second, the picture before her would suddenly disappear.

It was then Hermione remembered that this was the first time Fera had seen a moon in close to eight hundred years, making her own two years without the glowing orb look positively laughable. The luminescent brilliance had probably become nothing more than an abstract concept to the witch a long time ago. A fairy tale to remember on long nights.

And yet, here it was now, gazing down at them so innocently, no longer abstract, but very real. A symbol of their progress, and the triumph that was so close, they could almost taste it.

With a knowing smile, Hermione's small arm came up to wrap around Fera's shoulders in a comforting squeeze. For now, she held her tongue, willing her questions away for the moment, so she could bask in this small victory with her friend in companionable silence.

Together the two spent the rest of the night by the window, silently watching the long overdue sight of night bleed away to the pale pink and purple streaks of dawn. Hope bloomed within them for the first time in a very long while.

* * *

**A/N: Alright, that's another chapter down. Hope you enjoyed it, and please, take some time to send some feedback. I'd love to hear comments or questions :)**

**Next Chapter: Severus and Hermione's reunion on the Astral Plane and-dun, dun, dun...Hermione's return to the real world!**

**'Til next time**


	16. Goodbyes and Smart Kneazles

**(Disclaimer: see beginning)**

**Hello again! I know its been a while since I've last updated, but I'm still having trouble with Doc manager. So until I can get that fixed well :/**

**to Inthesouth: You're welcome! I'm glad I could clear that up and I welcome any questions!**

**Any who, this chapter hasn't been beta read yet, but it will at a later date. Until then, if you see any errors, let me know. **

**Thanks to my betas McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe **

**and as always, please take the time to share your comments! They keep me writing :)**

* * *

Chapter 15

Severus stared at the small metal container on his desk. His fingers drummed an impatient rhythm on its surface. Behind him, a potion was simmering, moments away from being complete. There was just one last ingredient to add, and then he would be ready to do the ritual.

He flipped the lid open again to glance at the dead heart inside. There was no blood smearing the inside of the box, no unsightly drips leaking from the corners or repulsive bits of flesh slipping down the side. There were no puncture wounds, slashes, or tears that he could catch with his sharp eyes either. The veins and arteries that had been attached to it were clinically cut in clean lines that spoke of years of practice and a steady hand.

On the whole, this delicate culmination of tissue were in such pristine condition that it nearly looked unreal.

There was only one problem with it─IT was a HUMAN heart.

His issue had nothing to do with any squeamishness. In his line of work it was impossible to be so. Especially when one had to work with various other organs, some just as unsavory as this. Sheep Brains, Doxie Skin, Rat Spleens, and Lizard Eyeballs. He'd been elbow deep in plenty of these things and more, with little difficulty.

Yet, the idea of a human heart sitting on his desk was extremely unsettling. Perhaps it was because the concept of treating his fellow man as nothing more than a tool to be used and discarded, felt wrong. So very wrong. Add to that, the fact that there was no going back after using vital organs like these. It wasn't like blood or hair, or even teeth, which could all be easily grown back with magic. The minute you took someone's heart out or their liver, that was it. The repercussions of your actions would permanently etch their way into your life and psyche.

Even in his younger years, when he had still been blindly wrapped up in the propaganda of the Death Eaters, he hadn't liked the idea of using ingredients like this. It had always seemed like a step too far into the dark.

He remembered the first time that he had been forced to make a potion that required human parts for Voldemort. The minute he had left the Dark Lord's presence, the contents of his stomach had poured out of his mouth, and he had been shaking and cursing his stupidity. He had had nightmares for days after that, thinking about the poor victims that had died for him.

Because make no mistake, he was the reason they had died. He could've found other potions to make for the Dark Lord, could've experimented or found loopholes like he had at school, so that he wouldn't have to use the vile ingredients, but he didn't. He had kept his head down, obeyed Voldemort, accepted the bloody packages that were given to him without a word, and for that, blood stained his hands.

His grip tightened on the container's lid. Even with his distaste for it, he had done it again a few times after, to appease the Dark Lord. His own fear for his life, stronger than his horror.

Pathetic.

With the memories of his younger years a bitter taste on his tongue, he glared at the heart, hating the fact that he was going to wade back into such dangerous waters again, and hating that he knew it was absolutely necessary.

There was no way he could tweak the potion this time. There were no substitutes, or short cuts. The ritual for freeing someone from a Soul Book was just as dark and…repugnant as the ritual for binding someone. A heavy price needed to be paid, and on this account that price was human flesh. Specifically a human heart. The directions were very clear on that matter.

The only good thing about this whole situation was that it wasn't necessary for the heart to be ripped out in a sacrifice. Most dark wizards or witches went about getting the vital organ that way, to be sure─but it wasn't necessary. The ritual just called for a heart, not death.

Which made his stolen heart, slightly less nauseating to use than a heart gotten by…darker means. No, he knew his contact would never stoop to such levels. It was more likely that somewhere in England, there was a morgue that had been broken into and a cadaver that was one organ less now. The thought, still unappealing, but less so, soothed some of his frayed nerves.

Behind him, the clock struck nine o'clock. He got up to check on his potion, and was pleased to see that it was the proper shade of grey he had been searching for. Grabbing the metal container off his desk, he allowed the heart to fall in. Immediately, red smoke rose from the cauldron in a noxious cloud. The smell of it was so cloyingly sweet that Severus nearly gagged on it.

Soon, but not soon enough for his liking, the smoke died down, leaving a clear smooth liquid behind. The potion was done. Scooping out a spoonful and pouring it into a glass vial, he placed the rest of the potion on stasis to save for later. Checking his robe pocket with a quick pat, he made sure the incantation for the spell was still in there, and was satisfied when he heard the telling crinkle of paper. He separated a couple strands of Granger's hair out from the small sample the House Elf had managed to get him and added it to the pocket for the spell as well.

Now all he had to do was find the book that was responsible for this whole mess. An easy feat, if Miss Granger could help him.

His hands were already going through the process of completing the spell for Astral Projection next. The supplies for it were already set up beside his cauldron, so he could seamlessly move onto his next task. Again, he cut his palm, squeezing the blood to the surface so that it could drench the last of Granger's hair in his fist. Once the mixture was lit, it took no time at all for the smoke to rise and for the familiar sensations of Astral travel to take him over. He soared from his body and onto the allusive plane.

Surprisingly, his trip seemed to be over much faster this time around. In fact, he would say that the trip only took a fraction of the time it did his first visit. His spirit form came to a stop in front of the boundary separating him from Miss Granger. With a firm hand, he pushed at the wall, once again shocked that it gave little resistance. More than a little confused and suspicious, he easily slipped inside, his senses already alert for trouble.

"Miss Granger?" he called out, his eyes searching across the Black Lake and the pebbled shore. There was something different about this place. Something was off─no, that wasn't right. It was the fact that nothing was as 'off' as it had been the last time he was here that wasn't right. Last time, there had been a certain feeling of wrongness. The water had perhaps been too bright, the sky an unrealistic shade of teal. It was the little things that made this world seem so…abnormal.

Now, however, there was no alien feeling lingering in the air, no oddities, nothing to tell him that he was actually in another world, outside of his own. It looked and felt like he was standing beside the Black Lake back at Hogwarts, and that, for all its pleasant appearances, did not bode well.

"Miss Granger?" his voice rang out again, with a touch more authority. His eyes instantly went to the boulders where he had seen her last, but she wasn't there.

"Professor?"

He swiveled around to find Miss Granger patiently standing behind him, only a few steps away. He was pleased to note that he was completely prepared to see her this time, thus his body didn't so much as give a twitch of recognition.

He was also equally pleased to note that the young woman had managed to quell her impulse to jump onto people this time around. Lesson learned, she was instead standing sedately in front of him. Her light brown eyes seemed to widen momentarily in surprise, as they flicked over him, but that was the extent of her reaction.

She gave him a nervous, yet friendly smile. _She's probably still trying to adjust her eyesight on the Astral Plane. Typical over-achiever. _

Severus stepped forward. "Miss Granger, I'm glad you finally deigned to answer my summons. I have several things I need to go over with you, but first, I need to know; did something occur in the Book since the last time I was here?"

His eyes narrowed when the witch began fidgeting. His voice came out as a dangerous purr. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe the last time we were here, I DID instruct you not to meddle with anything. Did I not?"

Her throat contracted, as she audibly gulped. Her feet shuffled back to create space between them. "Well," she started, "I thought you were talking about going back into the forest. Besides─" her head raised defiantly "─Fera deserves to find a way out for herself as well. It's not just me that's in trouble. If anything, she deserves to get out more than I do."

_Ah, and there's the headache I feared would come_. Long, calloused fingers rubbed at the sharp pain growing at his temples. "Miss Granger, while I regret that I can't assist your friend as well, I have already explained Miss Rosier's situation to you," he commented, completely exasperated.

"I can't accept that!" she argued. There was a desperation in her eyes, as she silently pleaded with him to understand. "And just look!" Her arm swept back, directing his eye to their transformed surroundings. "We believe that THIS is because the barrier between our worlds is thinning. Which mean she's close, really close to finding the answer. THIS is progress and that can't be a bad thing!"

"There are consequences for everything, Miss Granger, and while it seems for the moment that everything is roses, you don't know what kind of backlash that will occur now. Need I remind you, that you are dealing with a sentient magical object, that WILL fight back." He sneered, quickly losing his patience with the obstinate Gryffindor. Yes, he understood that she was just trying to help her friend, and he couldn't fault her concern or determination, but at the end of the day the girl knew nothing about Soul Books or dark magic. If she did, then she wouldn't be looking at her friend's situation with such hopeful naivety.

Because anyone who dabbled in the dark arts long enough, learned the cardinal rule of black magic very quickly. There were always consequences and steep prices to be paid.

Despite his words, Granger crossed her arms, stubbornly glaring at him. "You can't discount the fact that our experience with the Soul Book is entirely unprecedented. I'm not suggesting that there won't be repercussions, but there is a chance that they won't be as doom and gloom as you're assuming."

_Doom and gloom?_ He looked at the witch incredulously. "Seeing as you are not a Dark Arts expert and I am, I would think you would listen to what I have to say on the subject." His eyebrow twitched in irritation. Really, who did this witch think she was?

"I'm not an expert, no, I'll concede to that point, but Fera is. And, as you know, she's had more than enough time to learn everything there is to know about Soul Books."

If her chin were jutting out any more he'd be looking at her throat, and, oh, how tempted he was to strangle it. Albus would eventually forgive him, he was sure of it. He wasn't above bribing the older man with sweets to look the other way.

"And, are you so sure that she's been telling you everything? Tell me, Miss Granger, if you were in her position, would you be entirely forthcoming about all of the negative side effects that were sure to occur when experimenting with the Dark Arts? Especially if you were desperate to leave? Or would you keep them to yourself, so you wouldn't worry your friend needlessly?"

His words were cruel, but they were the truth, and she needed to hear them. More importantly though, he needed to redirect the conversation back to the original purpose. This conversation was only driving his temper up and he had no desire to keep arguing in circles with the mule-headed chit.

"Regardless," he snapped, when she moved to open her mouth again, "what's done is done. And you won't be around to deal with any of the consequences."

This caused Miss Granger to pause, her frustration slowly leaking away. "Do you mean you have everything set to get me out?"

He nodded briskly. "Indeed. I only need to know where you found the book, so I can complete the ritual."

There was a second pause, as she bit into her lip. His eyes were flickered to the abused lip, and he had to fight the urge to snap at her and get her to stop the distracting habit. And then she was talking, and he was focused once more.

"Oh…there might be a problem with that."

A tired sigh left his lips. _Of course there was a problem. Why should any part of this be easy?_ "And what problem would that be?" he asked, pinching his nose to stem away the headache that was still steadily beating against his skull.

The look she gave him was an odd mixture of bashfulness and aggravation, though it was fleeting and quickly replaced with intense concentration. "The problem is that when I was lead to the room, I was in a─I guess you can call it a trance-like state. So, I didn't pay attention to where I was going, or where I was. Then the second time I went down, I wasn't really paying attention then either."

"How could you not pay attention the second time? Were you in a trance again?"

"No, but I was chasing after my cat, and was more focused on catching up to him than tracking my footsteps."

"You followed your cat." The words were said slowly, without emotion.

"Well, yes I─that's it! You can follow Crookshanks! He'll show you the way to the room just like he showed me." The smile she sent towards him was so bright and excited, as if she had just struck gold, and he just stared.

"You want me to ask your cat for directions."

"Well, Crooks isn't just an ordinary cat, you know. He's half-Kneazle, and much smarter than your average cat. You shouldn't have any trouble finding him. He has shaggy, orange-red fur, and usually hangs out in either my room or the courtyard."

Severus' mouth twitched in displeasure, but he nevertheless agreed. His only other option was wandering the castle and hoping to come upon the right room. So, following around a cat couldn't be that much worse. "Fine. I'll follow your bloody cat." He was already walking down the beach and tugging on his Astral tether, when he turned back to bark out one last command. "And for fuck's sake, don't do ANYTHING else!"

* * *

Hermione watched her professor disappear in a wisp of glowing light, still astonished that she had heard him curse. She had seen him lose his composure before, the incident with Sirius immediately came to mind, but that had to be the first time she had ever heard such harsh words flow from the man's lip.

It seemed today was just a day for surprises.

Probably at the top of that list of surprises, was the startling picture Professor Snape had portrayed today. Or perhaps she should admit that his appearance had probably always been the same. The difference was more in Hermione's view of him.

Aside from the addition of a deep red glowing halo around his body, he had been dressed as she always remembered, in a black frock coat and thousands of buttons, his black hair hung loose and parted down the center. It was all the same, except it wasn't.

Her memory of him, glued into her mind from the first time she saw the formidable man her first year, was a culmination of her fear from his imposing presence and a desperation to fit in. To eagerly accept the mocking whispers of her peers, and allow them to distort his image into something that was so far past reality that he became almost cartoonish.

In her young mind, he had become a scarecrow thin man, with skin that was paler than moonlight, eyes that were beady and so bruised that it looked as if they were ringed with black paint. His hair had become so lanky and greasy that each strand looked like a slick piece of string, and his nose─God his nose─had become so large and hooked that it took up the majority of his face.

A cruel approximation of his appearance, but children were often cruel in their flustering naivety, and Hermione wasn't particularly ashamed of that. What kind of child didn't indulge in a bit of exaggeration? What child hadn't looked at a tall man and immediately conjured images of him being so tall that his head touched the clouds? Or looked at a larger woman, in a stuffy dress suit and compared her to a balloon?

No, that was just the natural perception of a child, who looked at the world in simple shapes and colors, often with a touch of whimsical imagination. There was nothing wrong with that. However, she was embarrassed that she had let that image of her professor superimpose itself over her vision for so many years, and to such a point that seeing him without it had been a shock.

Which it most definitely shouldn't have been. She shouldn't have been shocked that Professor Snape's hair, though oily, wasn't nearly as grease-ridden as she remembered, or that his skin, while pale, was an even tone of ivory and not a ghostly white. Nor should she have been surprised that his eyes weren't little black beads, but deep black orbs surrounded by thick fans of dark eyelashes, or that he actually had nice cheekbones, and small, but full lips. Most importantly, she should have known better than to expect his larger nose to be the caricature that she had created for him when she was younger.

Basically, she should have never been so astonished to see her professor as an actual human being.

Inevitably, this clearer picture of Professor Snape, made her wonder who else she had cartoonified. Were Harry's glasses really as big as she remembered them? Was Ron's hair as bright red? What about Professor Flitwick─was he as diminutive and was his voice as squeaky? Was Draco as nasty? How many people had she not been paying attention to? How many changes had she missed?

Fera had once told her, that she was as blind and unobservant as a bat scrambling around in the sun, and apparently she had been right.

She had gone through school with a single-mindedness, only focused on her grades and keeping Harry alive. She had never looked away from her task to take in the changes that were continuously evolving around her. With the constant buzz of _school, Harry, Voldemort, attacks, parents_, distracting her, she had forgotten to take a step back, to allow herself to breathe and properly grow.

Except now she had had the opportunity. The Soul Book, the terror and blessing in disguise all wrapped up in one, had given her the space she needed, the fresh outlook she had needed to settle into her maturity. (Though Fera would no doubt argue against that).

The book was evil, an abomination that had destroyed a lot of innocent people─and once she got herself and Fera out of here, she was going to burn this book to high Hell─but it had also given her many things that she would forever be thankful for. Perhaps she would give it a quick 'thank you' before she reduced it to ash.

A sudden pain in her shoulder, like she was being prodded with a blunt instrument, snapped her out of her thoughts. Looking around, she realized that she was still lingering on the Astral Plane and had been for quite some time. Longer than she had meant to be. Already, her previously distracted body was feeling the pull of the in-between dimension, and reacting quickly, Hermione cut her tether line, allowing her spirit to plunge straight back into her waiting body.

With a sharp gasp, Hermione jerked up in her seat, fighting the disorienting effects of body and spirit being reunited so promptly.

"I can sympathize with your pain, my dear, but you should not have lingered on the Astral Plane. It is very risky business."

Blinking, Hermione carefully moved her head to the left, flinching at the prick of pain in her neck. Beside her, Fera was watching her with amusement. In her hand was a half carved wooden wand, which was most likely the culprit behind her shoulder pain.

"I'm well aware, thank you, Fera. I just didn't realize that I was there for so long. How did you even know that I was Astral traveling?"

Giving her a long look, Fera responded, "Actually, I thought you were dead. I assumed it could not hurt to try poking you awake."

"What?!" the younger witch sputtered, then Fear started laughing. Realizing that her mentor was just making fun of her, Hermione poked her back in the shoulder, pressing into the joint with an extra shove. "That─" she poked her again, "was not funny."

Fera shrugged, unashamed. "Tomato, strawberry," she said, butchering the saying without a care.

"It's to-ma-to, to-mah-to," Hermione corrected her instinctually.

"I like the way I say it better. I am not that fond of tomatoes, you know."

"Seriously, how did you really know, though?" Hermione glanced at her curiously.

"Ah, my little bat," Fera grinned at her mockingly, "it was the little things. It is always the little things."

Before, Hermione could attempt to drag out a real explanation, Fera was already heading towards the library's exit, humming to herself quietly. It took only a half second of deliberation for Hermione to decide to follow after her.

"Fera, do you remember when I was talking to you about how it's rude to just walk away from a conversation before finishing it?" Hermione called after the blonde witch, trying to keep up with her ground-eating strides. "Well, this was a perfect example of that!"

The two stopped in front of Fera's bed chambers.

Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, her companion looked at her innocently. "Nonsense, I had nothing further to say. So, the conversation must have ended."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione huffed. "Yes, because you were the only one in that conversation with something to say," she replied sarcastically, but Fera didn't hear. Said woman was already across the room, rummaging through a chest by the foot of her bed. When she turned back to Hermione, she handed her two vials, and a clipped-off braid of her hair

Hermione took them, turning them over in her hand. "What are these?"

"Memories, and some of my hair."

"What?" Hermione's head shot up. "Why are you giving me these?"

Blue eyes looked steadily at her. "Because you are about to leave, are you not?"

"How…"

"You abruptly left our conversation to go to the Astral Plane. It was not hard to make the appropriate connections from there. Someone came for you, yes?"

Unable to speak, Hermione simply nodded.

"As I thought. These memories are all that I have left of my research. They're incomplete, but they should be some help to you, and if you have any further questions, you can use a bit of my hair and summon me to the Astral Plane as well."

Finding her voice, Hermione spoke up. "You know that I won't give up finding a way to get you out. I'll keep searching, and I'll figure out how to send you the ingredients you need, or books, or─or whatever!"

She was rewarded with a warm smile from Fera. "Yes, I know, child. I would expect nothing less from a fool hearty Gryffindor. Now as for my research…You will recall our first conversation on the subject?"

It took only a moment for Hermione to bring the memory forward, even though it was from so long ago the task was easy. Fera made quite an memorable first impression.

"Of course."

There was a small hesitation as Fera chose her words carefully. "Then, you will remember my condition on letting you snoop through my notes…"

"Ah," Hermione replied, finally seeing what her mentor was alluding to. "I agreed to keep the research a secret and to destroy it after Voldemort was defeated," she supplied. "You don't have to worry. I'll keep my promise, but just to show you how serious I am, I'll make a vow."

Lifting her wand in the air, Hermione cleared her throat. The magic of the wizard oath was already thrumming in the air.

"I, Hermione Jean Granger, solemnly swear to destroy all research on the Reservoir Stone after Voldemort is defeated. This includes any notes, journals, experiments, and creations that come from it. I also swear to keep said research private and hidden, only to be shared with those that have been approved by you, Fera."

"Very, well," Fera said, her shoulders visibly slumping in relief.

Had this been anyone else, and had they not been talking about a very dangerous alchemy stone, Hermione might have been insulted by the implied mistrust. But, she understood Fera's concern all too well. The Reservoir Stone was an infinitely dangerous tool that could cause a catastrophe if it fell into the wrong hands. So, she had no problem taking the oath if it would assuage the witch's fears. Fera had done so much for her already that it was the least she could do.

_If only there was a way I could thank her. Like really thank her. _

An idea struck Hermione then, and before she could change her mind, she turned her wand over, presenting it to Fera. "Here," she said, simply.

Taking the wand, Fera looked at it curiously. "I am afraid I am not following you, my dear. What would you like me to do with your wand?"

"I want you to keep it," Hermione stated, holding her mentor's gaze so she knew that she was being absolutely serious.

"Hermione, I can not take your wand. The offer was lovely, truly, but─"

"I can get another one easily, Fera. You can't. Besides, it's better than playing with those dinky little toy wands you keep carving up."

"Are you still mad about that?" Fera smirked at her.

"No, I just can't believe that I couldn't tell that you had been using a fake wand this entire time. And I will admit, that there are some feelings of inadequacies to deal with as well."

There was a sympathetic pat on Hermione's shoulder. "Ah, well, when your father takes your only means of defense, you adapt swiftly because it is necessary. If it makes you feel better, consider the fact that I have had more time to make my wandless magic appear more…polished, than you."

Waving her hand in dismissal, Hermione brought them both back on topic. "Noted, but that doesn't stop the fact, that you may need a wand one day. So, you might as well keep this one."

Elegant fingers tightened around the handle of the wand. With a shaky, yet heartfelt smile, Fera thanked her. Clearing her throat, she then pointed to the door. "You should go back to the Mirror Room, and wait there."

"You're not coming with me?" Hermione asked, a little stung that her friend didn't want to wish her a goodbye.

"Ah no," Fera said, turning her back on the younger witch to shuffle through the papers on her desk. "I cannot spare a second. Too much work to do, you understand." Her voice cracked a little, but she quickly covered it with an impromptu cough.

Realization struck Hermione. Fera didn't want to go because she didn't want to watch her leave. After she left, the older witch would be stuck here, all by herself again. Her chest tightened at the thought. No wonder she didn't want to deal with goodbyes. If she was in Fera's shoes, she wouldn't want to deal with them either.

Surging forward, Hermione wrapped her arms around her friend in a fierce hug. "Thank you," she whispered into the woman's robes, wrapping the inadequate words in as much gratitude as felt.

With one final squeeze, Hermione walked away. For Fera, she kept her head high and her tears at bay until she was far enough away that the other witch couldn't hear her crying.

* * *

"You must be Crookshanks," Snape said without preamble. His face was as impassively smooth as the pug-faced feline that was staring back at him, calmly lying in his favorite armchair, in his sitting room.

To say that Severus was surprised to see the creature patiently waiting for him in his rooms, the minute he left the Astral Plane, was an understatement. Although, he supposed he shouldn't have been that startled. Miss Granger had warned him that hers was not an ordinary cat. Like all magical cats, Kneazles (or half-Kneazles as the case may be) had a bad habit of popping up wherever and whenever they pleased. Kneazles were also known to be one of the few magical creatures that could mysteriously appear whenever they were needed. Like now.

Even knowing that, it didn't make its arrival any less annoying, nor did it stop Severus from clenching his wand instinctively.

A matted tail twitched ever so slightly, as if the cat had heard the thought and did not approve. With a cranky "meow", Crookshanks hopped off the chair, his claws digging slightly into the cushion spitefully as he went.

Severus watched the cat (Crookshanks, was it?) go, through narrowed eyes. _Of, course the creature was as annoying as its owner. Why should I have expected anything less?_ The two probably got along swimmingly.

Gritting his teeth, Severus rushed back into his lab, and snatched the potion up before he hurried after the cat through the open door. Mentally, he reminded himself that he preferred the orange menace over dawdling through the halls mindlessly, and therefore couldn't hex him.

His black eyes traveled over each wall, brick and stone, memorizing the trail he was following. Unlike Miss Granger, he had no desire to be dependent on a cat for anything. Thankfully, the journey didn't seem like it would take too long, as the cat led him to a small stairwell not too far from his classroom. Ducking into the cramped space, he descended into the bowels of the castle, where there was a congested network of tunnels.

They were in a deplorable state. Cobwebs fell from the ceiling in tangled nets, and dust clogged the air. On the ground, puddles of water were everywhere, formed from the murky drops of water leaking through the ceiling.

With a practiced ease, the cat maneuvered his way around the various puddles, shimmying between the groups of water gracefully. At the end of the passage, Crookshanks made a left, slipping into another corridor.

With not nearly as much care, Severus stepped through the maze of puddles, grimacing in displeasure when the ends of his robes dragged through the grimy liquid. Cursing under his breath he walked into the corridor he'd seen the cat go through. It was completely dark, and the only sounds he could hear were the pattering of water dripping and the soles of his shoes scrapping against stone. The sound of a cat running ahead was disconcertingly not present.

_That damn cat better not have left me behind._

Silently, he conjured an orb of light to hover over his head. His black eyes combed over the empty tunnel. There was no matted ginger fur in sight.

"Damn!" He stomped down the corridor, pausing when he got to a fork in the path. He looked between the two tunnels before him, his irritation welling at his abandonment. Where was he supposed to go now?

Down the left tunnel, a flash of orange in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he quickly followed it.

At the end of the tunnel, sitting in front of a solid stone wall was the cat. Severus looked around, noticing that there were no other turns, or passageways for them to go through, just the one wall.

The little beast had taken them to a dead end. Perfect.

Sneering down at the animal now sitting calmly at his feet, Severus snapped at him, "I hope you know, your mistress will be receiving a Troll first thing when she gets back, on your behalf."

"Meorw!" Crookshanks, non-too-pleased, swiped at his leg. Snape jumped back before its claws could snag his pant leg.

"Watch it, cat," he bit out. "I can and will hex you into a foot stool."

Ignoring him, the cat turned away, lifting its tail up in the air in a show of indifference. Raising a paw, it pressed it against the wall. There was a shimmer of magic in the air, as the wall transformed into a worn wooden door.

Job complete, the cat shot him a look that practically yelled, _it's magic, you simpleton_, before it trotted back down the tunnel and away.

"Sassed by a cat. Minerva will never let me live this down," Severus muttered as he pushed open the door, and flicked his wand at the sconces on the wall. A soft glow lit the room.

It wasn't hard to find the book, since it was sitting upon a pedestal in the middle of the room. Had he not been aware of what he was looking at, he would say it was just an ordinary book. No different than any other leather bound tome that could be found in the castle's library. There was nothing to mark it as special. However, there was a certain vibe around it. An aura that tasted of danger and death.

Cautiously, he stepped closer, drawing his wand out. Just in case. He set up several wards in the room and around the book as a precaution. Then, rummaging through his robes, he took out the incantation, the hair and the vial of potion, before he shrugged his robes off, rolled them up and pushed them into a corner and out of the way.

Smoothing down the bent corners of the paper, he looked over the incantation, making sure everything was in order. He ran over each line, humming the tune that went with each word until he was sure that he wouldn't make a mistake.

"Incendio Circulus" he muttered. Fire shot out from the tip of his wand, swirling around him and the book in a fiery ring. With his teeth, he pulled the cork top from the potion and spat it out.

Everything was ready.

With a deep breath, he cleared his mind, counting to ten until he was completely calm and focused. Bringing the paper up to his eyes, he began the incantation. The words, a mixture of old Latin and Goblin, came out harsh and guttural on his tongue.

The book's reaction was immediate. The fire blazed higher like spikes shooting towards the ceiling. It loudly crackled, growing with the power in the air. A hum rose from the book, as inky black tendrils of dark magic leaked from its cursed pages, groping towards him.

With a sharp crack, the book broke open forcefully. A horrifying shriek filled the room, clawing at Severus' eardrums and nearly sending him to his knees. Disoriented, he gripped the pedestal, forcing himself to keep standing. It was almost done…He was almost there.

Throwing the potion onto the book's exposed pages, then the lock of brown hair, he finished the ritual, the last words falling from his lips in a broken growl.

Like an animal wailing in the throes of death, the book let out one last painful screech before it shuddered in defeat. White light engulfed the room, and suddenly a body was flying towards him, falling into his arms with such force that it threw them both to the ground in a heap of limbs.

The blinding light receded, and the book was quiet and sealed shut once more.

Using the last of his strength, Severus pushed his head up and looked at the small body that he was too weak to move off of him. Light brown eyes, partially hidden behind a riot of curls, stared at him in dazed confusion.

"Professor?"

"Welcome back, Miss Granger," was the only thing he could croak out before his head dropped back to the floor and he fell unconscious.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, and there's another chapter. Hermione finally got a good look at Severus, through the eyes of an adult, she said goodbye to Fera and Severus met Crookshanks. I know usually people write that Crooks takes an immediate liking to Snape, but I thought it would be more fun to have them do a little stand off-that Crookshanks would win of course ;)**

**Up next: Hermione wakes up and the Order is called for a meeting.**

**Review!**


	17. Recoveries and Prudent Plans

**(Disclaimer: See beginning)**

**Thank you, everyone who reviewed! your comments and input made my day. As always thanks to my betas, McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe!**

**P.S. I have a one shot/deleted scene that takes place in chapter 15, where Hermione and Fera enjoy some sun by the lake. But it made the chapter too long, so I had to take it out. I also lengthened it a bit since I made it a one-shot. So check it out!**

* * *

**Last Time:**

**"Professor?"**

**"Welcome back, Miss Granger," was the only thing he could croak out before his head dropped back to the floor and he fell unconscious.**

* * *

Chapter 16

_A tight feeling clenched at her stomach. She took a step back, her eyes widened as the mirror glowed, roaring to life. The glass rippled like water, and suddenly Professor Snape was there, looking at her through the ornate, golden frame. _

_There was darkness about him. A hum of dangerous power that sparked in his once black eyes, now red and fiery. _

_ The clenching on her abdominal muscles got stronger, and more painful.  
It tugged her towards the mirror, her heels dragged across the stone floor. The professor's hand stretched out, and with a sudden lurch forward, she was falling…falling…falling. _

_ She crashed into something hard and warm. The world spun around her and she finally looked up and saw focused dark eyes watching her. _

_ "Professor?" she whispered, unsure and nauseous. _

_ "Welcome back, Miss Granger."_

With a groggy moan, Hermione blinked her eyes opened, immediately wishing that she could fall back into the blackness she had woken from. Then, maybe she could avoid the sudden headache, beating rhythmically against her skull.

She tried to peel her lids back further, but the sting that it caused clamped them shut. She tried again, slower this time, but it didn't change much. Everything was still a little hazy, clogged, like she was completely submerged in water and her vision was nothing more than shapes and colors. Sounds weren't much better, covered in a thin coat of white noise, the buzz ringing in her ears uncomfortably.

Her body was faring just as poorly. Her limbs felt lifeless and numb (except for the smallest patch of skin on the bottom of her left foot that itched like crazy) and each breath was wheezy and forced. She unconsciously swallowed, attempting to wash away the feeling of cotton balls coating her teeth and tongue with her saliva.

The clink of glass and metal beside her let her know that she was no longer alone. Something cool pressed against her mouth. Her lips fell apart and a thin, minty liquid slid down her throat. The tightness in her chest eased, and she was able to take a long gulp of air. She let out a pleased sigh.

"That's better," a matronly woman said, somewhere to her right. She knew that voice. Her head lolled in the direction. Her eyes squinted at the blur of white beside her. Was that Fera? It didn't seem like her.

"Who─" her voice cracked painfully, and then she was coughing, her chest squeezing with each harsh pull.

A warm hand pressed down on her stomach, and magic began settling around her, preventing her from thrashing about. "You shouldn't be trying to speak, Miss Granger. You're not ready for it, yet. Just rest your throat, and I'll take care of everything else. Here." Another vial was brought to her mouth, and more liquid moved down her throat, soothing away the cough. The smell of crushed thyme wafted up into her nose.

_Coughing Tonic?_ she wondered, instinctually pulling on the Potions lessons that had been hammered into her brain. Professor Snape would be so proud.

Snape…there was something about Snape that she was supposed to remember. Something important, about how she got here. Something…the thought was gone, slipping its way back into the muddled waters of her thoughts.

"Miss Granger." The woman was back, her homey scent of lilacs and honey hovering over Hermione's nose. "Your body still hasn't fully recovered from your ordeal. I'm going to help you get to sleep, so you can recoup. Alright, dear?"

Too disoriented, Hermione could only give a small whimper, but it seemed to be enough for the woman, who whispered a Sleeping Spell above her, that finally sent Hermione back into the peaceful darkness.

* * *

When Hermione woke again, she was feeling infinitely better. The burning pain in her arms and legs was gone, her head was no longer swimming in dizzy circles and each breath was effortless. Her muscles were still a little achy, but she wasn't going to complain. She would take a bit of achiness over feeling like she was drowning at the bottom of the Black Lake any day.

Wiggling her fingers and toes, she made sure everything was in order. Then, satisfied with her physical perusal, she, on habit, turned her inspection inward, checking her Occlumency shields and making sure they were still in place.

_A bit chipped, but otherwise fine_, she determined, quickly repairing the damage, before she moved onto anything else─like figuring out where she was.

Her eyes cracked open, immediately blinking at the harsh light stinging her pupils. They watered as they tried to adjust. The biting light and blurred colors became solid lines and shapes once more, and she was finally able to observe her surroundings.

The sheets that covered her were soft white cotton. They were similar to the ones in her room, but she knew for a fact that the bed she was currently laying in, a mundane thing that was too low to the ground, was not hers. In fact, from the gaudy, floral wallpapered walls, and dark wood furniture of the room, she could confidently guess that she wasn't in the librarian chambers that she had claimed two years ago.

_Where on Earth am I?_

She was about to call out to Fera and find out what the witch was planning, when a friendly voice stopped her.

"Miss Granger, I'm glad that you're awake."

Her head flopped gracelessly to the left, hitting her pillow with a soft thud.

Albus Dumbledore, her old headmaster, was sitting in a rickety chair by her bed, same as she always remembered him. He still wore those colorfully loud robes, still had a comically long beard, and a pair of round spectacles perched on his nose, and of course, his mouth was fixed in that all-knowing smile, she so fondly remembered.

Relief at seeing a familiar face flooded through her, followed shortly by confusion.

What was the Headmaster doing in the Soul Book? Or maybe they weren't in the Book, but rather on the Astral Plane…but that couldn't be right either. She didn't remember being summoned and the mysterious lack of glowing spirit aura covering them both only confirmed that thought. So what, then? A dream? It was possible, but if that were the case, then it was the most vivid dream she had ever experienced.

"Professor─" she croaked, swallowing against the dryness of her throat. A glass of water appeared in front of her. Sending a nod of thanks to Dumbledore, she greedily drank it down in a few hurried gulps.

"Better?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione responded, placing the empty cup on the nightstand to her right.

"Good," he commented. "How are you feeling?"

Stretching her arms above her head, as if she needed to double check the status of her body, she gave the Headmaster a happy sigh. "Much better. Still a bit sore, but nothing too bad. Professor, what's…" She trailed off when words failed her. There were so many questions that had to be answered. Where were they? Why had she been in so much pain? How did he end up─wherever they were? And where on Earth was Fera?

Finally, she settled on, "What's going on?" hoping that the Headmaster would understand all that she was trying to say, to ask, in that simple question.

Thankfully, he did. "To sum it all up: three days ago, Professor Snape extracted you from the Soul Book. You became ill immediately after, which worried a great many people, but Severus assured us that it was a natural side effect. Your body's way of readjusting to a new atmosphere, as it were. You've only just started waking up last night."

"So, Professor Snape really did get me out. I thought it was a dream," she muttered. "But it was real. And Fera…" Her eyes shut as she tried to push down the guilt of leaving her friend behind. She knew it was the only way, and she certainly wasn't going to give up on finding a way to get her mentor out, but the guilt was still there. A sharp sting, like a drop of lemon juice over an open wound.

She nearly missed Dumbledore's imperceptible shift forward when she said Fera's name, camouflaged as it was in his sudden need to rearrange his robes, but she caught it.

"So, she is alive, then?" Hermione nodded in confirmation.

"I will admit, I was concerned that Headmaster Trimble's hopes were for naught, but I am glad to hear that Miss Rosier has survived," he said. "Tell me, how is she doing?"

Hermione could tell that the question, for all its simplicity and innocent appearance, was far more loaded than it sounded. Call it a product of living with a Slytherin and her coy, subtext-ridden comments for nearly two years, but Hermione could clearly read between the lines of the Headmaster's query.

Dumbledore wanted to know about Fera's research, and he was trying to subtly maneuver her into talking about it. It was a technique that Fera had practiced on her on one, too many occasions, only with more arrogance and veiled insults. Embarrassingly enough, it had taken Hermione longer than she wanted to admit, before she had caught onto the sneaky little blonde. Not that it mattered in the end. Her being prepared had never really stopped Fera from getting her way.

Still, she was a little shocked that the Headmaster would try the same thing with her. She wasn't expecting such a maneuver from him. Why, she couldn't say. Perhaps it was because it was so un-Gryffindor-like. Or maybe it was because it was so at odds with the persona of kind, grandfather that she was used to seeing.

Not that she was upset by this revelation, that Dumbledore was perhaps more manipulative than he let on. Slightly disappointed, yes, but no more than when she had learned that her mother had been secretly going to the restaurant down the street for years to buy her favorite Roast Beef dinner and passing it off as homemade. She had learned that her elders didn't belong on golden pedestals any more than she did.

Besides, she had already planned on asking Fera for permission to let Dumbledore, Professor Snape and maybe Professor Lupin know about what she was working on. She didn't delude herself into thinking she could do this all by herself. So, she decided to answer his question, or partly answer it for now.

"She's doing fine," Hermione said with a small smile, "but there was something extremely important that I wanted to speak with you about." She looked around the room, searching for something. "Have you seen my bag? I had it on me when I came through the Book."

A shabby burlap bag came floating towards her, landing on her bed with a muted thump. Her eyes darted to Dumbledore, as she gathered her bag closer, her hands subtly running over the surface of the metal buckles holding the flap closed. Her wards tickled the tips of her fingers.

They were perfectly intact.

With new aspects of the Headmaster's character come to life, a small part of her, the cynical part perhaps, worried that he might have tried to get into her bag, to the notes that he so obviously wanted, but she knew that was highly unlikely.

There were layers of charms woven into her wards that would alert her if they had been broken by anyone other than herself, and of course, her added Extendable Charm made it impossible for just anyone to easily reach their hand in and grab what they wanted. Aside from all that, she knew the professor wanted her full cooperation, and he was intelligent enough to know that digging through her personal belongings might deter that.

Letting her magic press against the paint-chipped front buckle, she waited for the telltale click of her bag opening. With her mind she thought about Fera's notebook and a second later, her fingers were sliding over the care-worn leather cover. She pulled the book out, placing it in her lap for the Headmaster to see.

"This is Fera's journal," she began, her fingers curling protectively around the edges of the notebook. "It's a detailed account of her research─the research we talked about before my…trip."

Sharp blue eyes dropped to the little brown journal with interest. "The one that her father was after, you mean," he said, proving that he knew more about Fera than he had let on the last time they spoke. It was a small gesture of trust, tipping his hand for her to see, but Hermione greatly appreciated it.

"Yes, and for good reason. She managed to create, well, a weapon, really─a rather dangerous and powerful weapon, although unintentional. And because of that I've made a vow," she explained, "a wand oath for Fera, that I would keep her research and anything I create from it a secret."

"I see." His disappointment was obvious.

"There are exceptions," she said in a rush, "but I'd have to get Fera's approval first, before I brought anyone else on. I had already thought of a couple people that I wanted to help me, you being one."

"And the other?"

"I'm still thinking on that one," she lied. She knew she was going to ask Snape as well, because she couldn't think of anyone who would be better suited to helping her. She would have to deal with his more…prickly temperament, but they had seemed to do fine when they talked on the Astral Plane. Or fine-ish, if she ignored the way he had constantly looked as if he were a minute away from strangling her.

Even still, it couldn't hurt to ask him, and she was sure his desire to end the war was greater than his desire to keep a castle width of space between them, but she wanted to be the one to talk to him. She didn't want him to be forced into it by the Headmaster, which was likely to happen if Dumbledore went to him first. More importantly, she did NOT want to deal with a cranky Snape that resented her because his hand had been forced.

No, SHE would talk to him later…once she gathered the courage to actually do so.

"Very well, then. I can understand the need for secrecy," Dumbledore remarked with a sigh. "However, it has recently come to our attention that Voldemort has become aware of Fera's predicament and her research. How? We don't know yet, but he's searching for the Soul Book and anyone who could be connected to it." He gave her a pointed look. "Because of this, the Order will need to know what we're facing, at least. Is there any information you can give me? Details withstanding, of course."

Biting her lip, Hermione thought over his request. He made a fair point. She could hardly expect the Order to help her protect something that they knew nothing about. On the other hand, she couldn't─wouldn't break her vow to Fera, but maybe she could find some middle ground.

"Well," she finally began, measuring her words carefully, "I can't tell you how she did it, or go into any details, but I can at least tell you that Fera's research lead her to create a tool that could…steal another being's magical energy."

Dumbledore froze in his chair, his gaze turning bleak at the implication of her statement. "I believe I understand why Miss Rosier would demand your silence on the matter, now."

Hermione nodded morosely. "Exactly. It was originally supposed to be a tool that helped witches and wizards share their magic harmlessly, but she doesn't know where it went wrong. I'm hoping that I'll be able to fix it, so Harry can use it."

You could hear a pin drop in the heavy silence of the room that followed her words.

Hermione watched the Headmaster, waiting for a reaction and a little surprised that he wasn't happier about what she was telling him. True, the Reservoir Stone was dangerous and would need to be kept under constant watch, but she had just handed him the key to winning the war, to giving Harry the final edge he needed to face Voldemort. You would think he would be more pleased. Instead, he looked troubled, strained, as he looked down at his clasped hands in thought.

"It's not exactly what I was expecting you to bring back," he admitted, "Then again, I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I can definitely see the potential." He raised his head. What looked like guilt and fear quickly flashed across his face, then they were gone.

"I'm afraid I can't personally be much help to you. My attentions are needed elsewhere, with the school and the Order. Never fear, you'll still have access to the Order's resources, and I'll make sure I'm available to answer any questions you might have, if that is alright with you."

"Um, okay," Hermione replied, a little puzzled as to why Dumbledore was suddenly less enthusiastic about Fera's work. Just a minute ago, he had seemed very curious, eager to get a peak at the journal. Now, out of the blue, he wanted no part in it?

_Was it something I said?_

Dumbledore stood abruptly, pacing across the small strip of floor in front of the door. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as a hundred thoughts sped through his mind.

He stopped, looking at Hermione carefully, before coming to some kind of conclusion. "Are you well enough to get up?" he asked, briskly.

"I─ah, yes. I can move. Why? Are we going somewhere?" Hermione asked, scooting out from under her covers. Thankfully, she was already dressed, in a simple pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. She looked around for her shoes, wandlessly calling them to her when she couldn't find them.

Dumbledore watched her effortless spell casting curiously, but didn't remark on it or the two white sneakers that had landed gently in her hand. "You don't have to worry. We won't be going far, only downstairs to the study," he told her. "When Madame Pomfrey informed me you were awake, I called the Order together for a meeting. I was going to leave you to rest, but now I think it would be more prudent to have you present."

"Sir?" Hermione looked up from tying her laces, the shock plain on her face.

"You heard correctly, Miss Granger. I want you to attend the Order meeting tonight. The others need to be prepared as well, and before you ask, I'm not expecting you to share everything either, but they need to know the bare minimum, at least. Especially since Voldemort has already found out too much." There was the smallest hesitation as the Headmaster opened the door for her. Another snap decision being made. "Actually, I believe we should have you attend the other meetings as well. Not counting your time in the Soul Book, you have been considered a legal adult for a while now, anyway."

"A─alright, then. I can do that," Hermione said, swallowing nervously, some of her early confidence shrinking away. Attending the meetings would make her practically a full-fledged Order member, and that would mean she'd have an Order member's full burden of responsibility to deal with as well.

Was she ready for that? Or would she just let everyone down? Her deal with Fera suddenly seemed so much more complicated now.

"Splendid!" Dumbledore cheered, gifting her with a fond smile as he lead the way down to the study and the group of witches and wizards that were eagerly waiting for them.

* * *

Standing in front of the Order, was just as nerve racking as Hermione thought it would be. Which was ridiculous, since she knew nearly everyone here personally.

How many hugs had she received from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley? How many laughs had she shared with Fred, George, Tonks, Bill and Fleur? How many times had she been patched up by Madam Pomfrey, or gone to Professor McGonagall and Professor Lupin for advice?

The only people that she could say she wasn't familiar with were Kingsley, and Moody (the real Moody), but neither man inspired fear. And Snape, who was sitting in the corner away from the group, as always had a fierce presence, but after six years of dealing with him in a classroom, she was used to it.

Still, for whatever reason, there was something about facing them all collectively, in such an official manner, that added some unexplainable pressure to impress and prove her worth─her right to be apart of their inner circle.

She shifted uncomfortably beside Dumbledore at the front of the room. All eyes were on them.

Dumbledore, with much more experience with these sort of things, folded his hands in front of him, and cleared his voice. A signal that the meeting was starting.

"You are probably wondering why I've called you here tonight, aside from welcoming Miss Granger back, of course." He nodded towards her, his beard lifting with the corners of his mouth. A light chuckle spread around the group and warm eyes rested upon Hermione briefly before returning to the Headmaster.

"Do you all recall the circumstances surrounding the Soul Book that Miss Granger found herself trapped in?"

Tonks spoke up, answering for the room. "It was a prison for a pureblood witch, right? Stuck there by her father."

"Fera Rosier," Lupin added.

"Right. That one," Tonks acknowledged.

Chiming in, Mrs. Weasley said with a grimace, "That poor girl─Imagine having such a horrid father!"

"Yes," Albus agreed. "And due to the sensitive nature of her research, relatively nothing was known about it. However, thanks to Headmaster Trimble, we were able to confirm that the research had great potential, both dangerous and otherwise."

"And now, Voldemort is looking for the book," Moody grumbled, a deep frown burrowing into his cheeks. His magical eye swiveled to Snape momentarily.

"So what's this research about then?" Arthur asked, "And why is Voldemort interested in it?"

"If Voldemort wants it than it most be evil," Moody stated. "We know next to nothing about this Fera woman, only that she created something that TWO Pureblood fanatics have wanted. How do we know that we can trust her, or anything she's made?"

"Who's saying we're trusting anything or anyone. It's not like we have access to her research, or even know what it's about," Lupin argued. "Nor do we have a way to get to it, so we can't just check."

"Hermione was in the book," Fred joined in, George seamlessly finishing his sentence.

"So, she might have seen something."

"Touching anything attached to a Black Artifact, is a death wish. She wouldn't have been able to interact with whatever secrets that book was hiding without it effecting her soul," Moody barked out, while his magical eye rolled around to rake down Hermione's body, as if checking for any harmful residue.

"But Hermione was sucked into the book, right?" Tonks wondered out loud. "So, wouldn't she be negatively affected already?"

"Nonsense, I gave her a proper examination upon her arrival. I would have picked up on something, if that were the case," Madame Pomfrey assured them.

Hermione watched as the others argued over what they thought had happened, none of them getting around to actually asking her. She was tempted to interrupt them, but she wasn't sure what the protocol was for this type of thing. So far, she had been working off of Dumbledore's cues, but he was silent at the moment, looking almost amused by the other's speculation.

"Look, why─" Bill tried to make a point, but was cut off by a deep, and highly annoyed voice.

"Seeing as none of you know a thing about Soul Books, the only thing all of your pointless theories are doing is filling the room with hot air," Professor Snape told them sharply, with a sneer. "Now, ordinarily, being in a Soul Book does have a negative affect on you, but only if you should encounter one of the Sacrifices in there, or if you stay for extended periods of time. However, due to Trimble's interference, Miss Granger was not as affected by the book's influence. She's fine."

The sudden defense was welcomed, though also startling (considering the source it had come from). Hermione looked at her Potions professor, giving him a small smile in thanks. To which he cut his eyes at her and glared in reply. She quickly looked down at her shoes.

_So he wasn't really defending me, just looking for a way to shut everyone else up_─_Makes more sense._ But, that was alright, because the Professor's words had given her just the boost she needed to finally speak up.

"I don't know much about what Headmaster Trimble did to the book, but I didn't feel much influence coming from it. He also lessened the effect on Fera as well."

"Wait a minute─Fera's alive? How in Hades name is she still kicking, it's been like over two-hundred years. Not even magic folks live that long," Tonks interrupted.

Snape answered the pink-haired witch before she could. "It was actually longer than that. I suspect she's been in there for about eight-hundred or so years."

Tonks blinked owlishly. "But that's not possible!"

"I assure you, it is," he drawled, waving his hand at her dismissively, "Her soul is trapped there, preserved as it was the moment her father performed the ritual. As long as the book remains unchanged, so will she. Unless, of course, she dies."

"Or, unless she gets freed, which I plan to do," Hermione countered, shooting her eyes at the Potions Master defiantly. He held her stare, his face impassive except for the smallest twitch in his left eyebrow. "In any case, Fera's still alive."

"And," Dumbledore interjected, finally taking back control of the meeting, "She has agreed, under certain conditions, to allow us to use her research."

"So you know what the research is?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Dumbledore turned to Hermione, nodding that she should take the floor.

"Right," the she mumbled, clearing her throat as she faced her audience. "Well…um, for reasons you'll soon see, I can't give any details. I've already taken a vow to prevent me from doing that. And it's for everyone's safety that the specifics of Fera's project be kept secret." She glanced around the room, making sure everyone understood. Moody seemed a little displeased, but he held his tongue, motioning for her to continue.

"Good. Now, first, I should explain that what Fera created─it wasn't meant to be a weapon, or meant to harm anyone. It was supposed to be a tool to help Aurors in the field, for when they were low on energy. But it didn't work like she wanted to and what she ended up creating was a weapon that could steal another's magical energy." She said the words in rush, hoping to get it over with. Like ripping a Band-Aid off.

"WHAT!" Moody bellowed, his voice, only one of many that were steadily rising in concern. Everyone had something to say, and none of it was positive.

"─No wonder, the old Snake-face wants that research."

"─Oh, dear, oh, dear."

"─We should just destroy the book. We can't let Voldemort get to it."

"─It's not that simple. You can't just throw fire on it and be done with it!"

"─Then what do you suggest? We can't just leave it there for anyone to get their hands on!"

"─He'll be able to wipe out the entire Wizarding World if he wanted! No witch or wizard would be safe."

Hermione shrank back, moving closer to the Headmaster, who seemed to be the only one who had remained calm. "I believe," Dumbledore said, his words resonating with a power that easily washed over the others, "that Miss Granger wasn't finished, yet. If you will leave your comments until the end, so we can get a better grasp of the situation, that would be appreciated."

Taking back the floor, Hermione looked nervously around the room. If the others didn't like the first part, then they certainly wouldn't like what she had to say next, but she reminded herself that they needed to be aware of how bad this could go. "Right…Unfortunately, witches and wizards wouldn't be the only people in danger. You see, Fera discovered that Muggles actually have magical energy in them as well."

Not able to help himself, Lupin asked, "What do you mean?"

"The same energy that we have, Muggles have. It's just that their energy is finite and dormant, while ours is regenerative. So if, hypothetically speaking, Voldemort were to get ahold of Fera's weapon/tool then he would be able to use Muggles just as he would Magical Beings."

"And they're defenseless," Remus pointed out. "Gods, he'd be able to go through them like batteries."

"Are we sure we should even be messing with this?" Madam Pomfrey looked at the others.

Kingsley sighed tiredly. "Poppy makes a good point. This cannot end well. The safest route would be to probably destroy the book. Which is unfortunate, especially since we know that Miss Rosier is still alive, but can we allow such a risk to continue? All those lives that could be wiped out…"

"The book is in a secure location, which is only known by three people including myself and Miss Granger. I've also taken the liberty of heavily warding it and setting up a number of defenses. Aside from that, Miss Granger informed me that Miss Rosier and her had already begun fixing the project, so it could be steered back to its original purpose."

"And we've nearly got it," Hermione jumped in. "Fera was on the verge of fixing it by herself, before her father came for her. I'm sure I'll be able to finish it."

McGonagall pursed her lips displeased. "We cannot expect Miss Granger to take on a large task like this by herself. She's still a student for Heaven's sake!"

"It has to be me. Fera wants her research to remain as private as possible. I had planned on bringing one or two people in to help, but they need to be approved by Fera, first."

"That's all well and good, but the minute the Dark Lord gets his hands on Miss Granger all your wards and approvals will mean nothing," Snape's dry tone, cut in.

"That's why I'll be continuing my Occlumency training. I won't be a risk," Hermione assured the group.

Snape was not so easily swayed. "This is the Dark Lord we're talking about, girl. Whatever paltry defenses you've managed to push together, won't stop him. He'll cut through them like butter."

A small barely-there pressure, pressed against her mind, as he said this. She instantly knew where it was coming from and glared at the culprit. Instinctively, she sent a mental shock, as her walls clamped down. Snape didn't even wince at her mental reprimand, and that just irritated her further.

Her head raised a little higher, a challenge clearly ringing through her words. "I'll be able to keep him out. And if not, I have a fail-safe in place."

She knew that the majority of the room wouldn't understand what that meant. Could tell by their uninterested faces, that they didn't know what a fail-safe even was, but Snape knew, as was proven by a single raised eyebrow. He eyed her appraisingly, as if seeing her for the first time, and Hermione could almost swear she saw a hint of approval.

She may have preened a bit under the silent, meager praise, before she stopped herself.

"The risk level is still high," he warned. "Even if he can't get to your mind, there are other ways to make you talk. Your parents for example."

An icy finger of fear trailed down her back. How could she have forgotten about that? Of course Voldemort would stoop that low. He had no problem with killing babies for Godsakes. Why would he have trouble murdering full-grown adults?

What was she going to do? Her parents were practically sitting ducks.

"That will not be a problem," the Headmaster declared. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger were moved to a secure location after Miss Granger's disappearance. They are currently hiding in one of our safe houses, and have agreed to remain under Order watch until the threat is dealt with."

A weighty sigh of relief, left her. "Thank you, sir."

"Do not worry about your parents, Miss Granger. They're in good hands."

"Can I talk to them?"

"I'll set up a meeting for you later," he replied as he turned his attention back to the room. "Above all, it is imperative that Tom be kept in the dark for as long as possible. Right now, he only has suspicions about Miss Granger's disappearance. We must make sure that he cannot prove them."

"So, we should continue our current story─that Miss Granger left for Australia in order to work for apprenticeship," McGonagall recommended.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "But I would be remiss to not take advantage of the opportunity Miss Granger's trip has afforded us."

"Opportunity?" Hermione asked. What else could there be?

"Precisely. You mentioned that the two weeks you were gone translated to two years for you. So you would be around twenty now, yes?"

"Well, yes. I suppose."

"Good, good. I suggest that we legally verify your age, so that you can claim independence in both the Muggle and Wizarding World. We could use that as the reason why your parents are no longer in England. With their daughter no longer dependent on them, they were free to move and travel as they wished. And it will also prevent Tom's men in the Ministry from trying to take you."

"How could they get away with taking me? That's not legal is it?"

"It's not strictly legal," Kingsley informed her, "but they could claim that it was for your protection. That your Muggle parents wouldn't be able to protect you, and being Harry Potter's friend…"

"But won't Voldemort be suspicious that she's suddenly gained so many years?" questioned Lupin, cutting in.

"The paperwork can be done covertly, and moved into the Ministry files. We are fortunate that the Age Verification process is largely ignored. As for an explanation, Miss Granger has been a registered Time-Turner user since her third year. It is a simple matter to change the school records, and switch around her previous class schedules, and claim that she's been using a Time-turner every year since─enough so that she has gained three extra years."

"Then you could say that she took the extra classes so that she could graduate early, and start her apprenticeship a year ahead of schedule," Kingsley stated, seeing where the Headmaster was going. "It would be believable. Miss Granger's academic standing and drive is a well-known fact in the Ministry since her OWLs. We'll have to talk to a few people, convince them to look the other way, but it can be done."

McGonagall was not as optimistic. "Graduate a year early? She's not allowed to do that. Is she?"

"There have been a few cases, where a student graduated early. The last occurred around three-hundred years ago," Dumbledore responded. "But it would give Miss Granger more freedom to work on Fera's project, under the guise of working with Filius."

Hermione looked between the Headmaster, Kingsley, and McGonagall in disbelief. This plan was completely insane, and it sounded like dozens of laws would be broken in the process. She tried to inject some sanity into the conversation.

"What about my NEWTs? I can't just skip them!"

Dumbledore thought for a moment. "You will have to take them around the end of the summer, summertime in August, if you wish to take them."

"But, I can't just take my NEWTs so soon, I'm not prepared!" she cried, incredulously.

George snorted. "Please Mione."

"You could take your NEWTs tomorrow if you wanted," Fred added.

"Blindfolded, and─"

"With your hands tied behind your back─"

"While sitting on a dragon's head─"

"Backwards."

Hermione, with nothing to say to such colorful words of confidence, quieted. Her cheeks turning a bright pink.

"I don't mean to poke any holes in your plan. But it depends entirely on making sure Voldy DOESN'T figure out Hermione's his girl. Which is fin, but I'll eat my left foot, if anyone believes that she looks the same as she did two weeks ago. Call me crazy, but the other students will definitely wonder how she managed to grow a pair of hips and a set of boobs over the course of a few days. Australia is nice, but it's not that nice," Tonks joked. Several heads nodded, including the twins who waggled their eyebrows at her suggestively, causing her blush to deepen.

"Tonks is right, but we should be able to cover it with glamour,"McGonagall responded, her eyes raking over Hermione's body critically. She let out a long sigh. "This will be a very long week."

Hermione nearly laughed at that extreme understatement. Moody must have shared her thoughts because he chuckled gruffly. "A long week doesn't even begin to cover it. You mark my words," he said, turning to pin her with his magical eye, "a storm's coming, and you'll be right in the center, girl."

* * *

**A/N: and there goes another chapter. Hope you enjoyed it!**

**Up Next: Hermione is finally reunited with Harry and Ron and she gets a new wand!**

**Thanks for reading and don't forget to review! They keep me inspired :D**


	18. New Wands and Unbreakable Friendships

**(Disclaimer)**

**Okay, I haven't gone to bed yet, some I'm still considering this Friday! But yes, I know I'm wayyyyy past due for another chapter, but unfortunately (or rather fortunately, since I need the money), I have a new job. So, I'm juggling school, an internship AND a job, so updates might be slow coming for a while. I'll try to post every other week but I can't make any promises :/ So Sorry!**

**But on the brighter side. YAY! Over 100 reviews! Thank you all so much, that really made my day to see this story so well received, and I'll definitely do my best to keep your expectations high! I'll have to think up a proper thank you (suggestion would be welcome)**

**And many thanks to my betas, McGonagall's Bola, and Emilia Wolfe**

**Thanks again~**

* * *

Chapter 17

It was the delicious smell of coffee, a smell that she hadn't enjoyed in a while, that woke Hermione up the next morning. She couldn't say that she had ever been much of a coffee drinker, but its earthy aroma did give her a certain sense of nostalgia and it brought back memories of Saturday mornings when her mother would prepare two cups of the dark drink (which were only consumed on Saturdays, since coffee stained the teeth), and her younger self would sit in front of the telly watching cartoons and eating a bowl of sugar coated sugar cereal (also only a weekly indulgence).

The sudden walk down memory lane reminded her that she still had yet to see her parents or Harry and Ron. A, by now, familiar ache pricked her heart at the thought, and she had to wonder just when she would be able to see her family again. When would Dumbledore set up the meeting? Would she have to wait to see her best friends until she returned to the school? She had to be patient, she knew that, but it was hard, especially since it had been TWO years of missing them on her part.

_But whingeing about it, __won't make time go faster. So, you'll just have to wait until Dumbledore thinks it's safe enough for a meeting,_ she mentally scolded herself._ At least I'll be seeing Harry and Ron soon enough at school. _

Sighing, she threw back her covers, resolving to push the melancholy thoughts far away for now. Quickly getting dressed in the spare shirt and jeans that were left on the chair for her, she shoved her socked feet into her sneakers, grabbed her raggedy purse and left her room to find out who was making coffee.

Letting her nose guide her, she hopped down the stairs and into the kitchen, where the heady smell was the heaviest. She didn't know what she was expecting when she walked through the doors, but it wasn't the sight of the resident werewolf and shape shifting Auror standing by the counter, heads bent suspiciously together, smiling shyly. The Metamorphmagus giggled at something Lupin said, her hair turning an even brighter shade of bubblegum pink.

_Well, this is certainly an adorable surprise_, Hermione thought, as she watched a blush sweep across her old professor's cheeks. She was almost sad that she had to interrupt them, but it was either that or stand in the doorway like a creepy voyeur, and she wasn't too fond of the latter option. So, quietly stepping away, she crept back up the stairs, then came down again, stomping on the steps a little harder this time, making as much noise as possible.

Throwing open the door to the kitchen, Hermione greeted them with a cheerful, "Good Morning!"

Lupin, now sitting at the table with a newspaper in his hands, nonchalantly flipped a page, nodding at her with a warm smile. His eyes only momentarily flitted towards Tonks, who was now on the other side of the room nursing a cup of coffee. It took a great amount of effort for the Gryffindor witch to keep her laughter smothered.

The Auror lifted her morning cup towards her. "Wotcher, Hermione! Had a good sleep?"

"Yes, actually," she replied, walking over to the other witch, and peeking into the coffee pot on the stove. "Do you mind?" she asked, pointing to the slightly blackened cookware.

"Go ahead, we have a big day ahead of us," Tonks said, sitting down at the table, beside Lupin. "If you haven't guessed already, I'll be your guard while we're at Diagon Alley. You have to get a wand, yeah?"

Inhaling deeply, Hermione took a tentative sip. The taste was still a little bitter, but the kick of energy and the delightful feeling of warm liquid sliding down her throat more than made up for it. Releasing a happy sigh, she nodded. "Yes, I do, and I'm in need of new robes. Professor McGonagall brought over a couple of my old ones, but they don't…ah…they don't fit."

Her cheeks heated, as she remembered how she had tried to shimmy her old skirt up past her hips last night, cursing and fumbling the whole time. She supposed that she could let out the worn cloth with magic, but that wasn't always wise in a school where a misdirected reversal charm could undo all her hard work. No, it would be better for her in the long run, if she just got the clothes that she needed now.

A cheeky grin lit up Tonks' face. "Had some problems with your old clothes last night?" she asked, slapping Hermione's hip with a chuckle. "Welcome to the aches of womanhood, where there's hips and arses aplenty!"

Hermione could probably light a fire with the amount of heat coming off her cheeks now. The small snicker coming from behind Tonks wasn't helping matters either. Closing her eyes, she took a deep calming breath. "Colorfully put, but yes, I am in need of new clothes. When are we going?"

Tonks looked like she was going to tease her again, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, she finished her cup of coffee, charming it clean, then informed her, "We'll be leaving now if you're ready. Do you need to stop by Gringott's first?"

Hermione patted her purse. "Nope, I have enough money on me for now. We'll see at the end of the day, though. I also have to get a few supplies for school."

"S'okay. Before we go though, we're going to have to do something about your face. Can't have everyone in Diagon Alley knowing that Hermione Granger is back just yet," Tonks declared, her reddish brown wand already out and pointed at Hermione. "Hold still, yeah?"

Fighting the urge to jerk away, Hermione did her best to do as directed. The cool feeling of magic settled onto her skin, followed by the odd feeling of her features shifting, widening in some places and shrinking in others.

When she was finished, Tonks stepped back to admire her handiwork. "There," she said, satisfied. She transfigured a spoon into a mirror, so Hermione could see the results as well.

The girl in the reflection, certainly didn't look like her, and yet at the same time, Hermione could still see hints of herself peeking through the Charm work. It was all little things, small changes that she wouldn't have thought would matter, but put them together and she was a completely different person. Her nose was a little too wide, her top lip too narrow, her chin too pointed, and her cheeks too high. Her hair was also different, slightly less curly and a light, golden shade of blonde. The color of her eyes, a warm cinnamon brown, was the only thing that was still fully hers.

All together, this woman looked nothing like Hermione Granger. Tonks did a good job. Hermione said as much to her.

Beaming at the compliment, Tonks responded with, "Thanks! Changing faces IS my specialty." To emphasize her point, she seamlessly shifted her own features until Hermione was looking into the elderly eyes of a random old woman. Her cheeks wrinkled, as she gave her audience a cocky smile and wink, before her face smoothly transformed back to its original state.

Hermione blinked. "Impressive."

Another bright smile. "Thanks," Tonks replied. "But enough dallying, let's hit the shops already. We'll head to Old Ollie's first, then Madam Malkin's." Tonks nudged her towards the living room, where the Floo was, waving goodbye to Professor Lupin as she passed him. Then, grabbing a hefty amount of powder she threw it in the Floo. Green flames came roaring to life, and the two witches stepped inside, their bodies instantly whisked away to their destination.

* * *

True to her word, the first place Tonks took her was Ollivander's for a new wand. The ancient door creaked open, flooding the darker room with light from the street. Nothing had changed in the quiet shop since she had last been there nearly ten years ago. The crooked shelves, still housed hundreds of cardboard boxes. The decorative sconces on the walls flickered weakly, illuminating the main room with a warm glow, and the calming scent of wood polish and spice permeated the air.

She could almost picture herself, walking in here at eleven. She had been so excited, so curious to see what kind of wand she was going to get. She had read all about Wandlore prior to coming, and had cockily swaggered in as if she knew what she was going on about.

She chuckled, remembering Mr. Ollivander's face, when she informed him that she had read the entire encyclopedia of_ Wand Crafting Around the World, _by Ernest Hombly and then proceeded to explain to HIM some of the wand selecting processes in China and India.

He had handed her a walnut wood wand, immediately after, which she thought would definitely be her fit, but she had been pleasantly surprised when she had instead bonded with a gorgeous vinewood.

A tinge of sadness hit her, and she realized that a part of her missed her old magical partner. She didn't regret giving it to Fera, as it was the least she could do, after all, but she had to wonder; would she be able to bond with another wand like she had with her first? She wasn't too hopeful about it.

Stepping into the store around her, Tonks immediately began poking around at the items on display. Hermione walked up to the front counter, about to ring the bell, when a voice from the back of the store stopped her.

"9 and a ¼ inch applewood, with a Dragon Heartstring core. Surprisingly flexible." Mr. Ollivander stepped out from behind a shelf, seeming to materialize out of thin air. A soft smirk played on his lips as he observed Tonks. "Come for another wand replacement, Ms. Tonks?" he inquired, his amusement shining through his words.

Far from being offended, Tonks threw her head back and laughed, pulling out her wand to show it off. "Cripes no! I'll have you know me and my new beau are still going strong. A year and counting now. I'm going for a new record!"

Ollivander chuckled softly with her. "That's good to hear, my dear. Is it giving you problems then? Or is this to be a social visit?"

Still grinning, Tonks answered, "Sorry, Mr. O, I'm just the escort today."

Taking that as her cue, Hermione stepped forward. "I'm actually the one in need of a wand."

Ollivander turned to her, his partially luminescent eyes pinning her in place. Hermione shuddered under his heavy gaze. A feeling, like her soul was being laid bare and examined crept through her. This, too, she remembered from her last visit.

Finally Ollivander spoke. "10 ¾ inch vinewood, with a Dragon Heartstring core. A little stiff."

Gaping at the man, Hermione brought her hands up to her face, tracing the changes Tonks had made and making sure they were still in place. As far as she could tell, the charm was still intact. "How did you know? I don't even look the same," she said, pulling the hood of her robe down.

"I never forget a wand," he replied, the corners of his mouth lifting in a secretive smile. "Or such a memorable customer. Chinese trade routes for wood, wasn't it, Miss Granger?"

"Ah, yes," she mumbled, a blush blossoming. It would have been nice if he had forgotten THAT bit of her visit.

"Anyway," she said, trying to redirect the conversation from her swotty tendencies when she was younger, "I need a replacement wand. I…lost mine."

"Hmm, a replacement, you say," Ollivander hummed, looking her over thoughtfully, his stare intense. Clicking his tongue, he turned around, muttering to himself as he shuffled through some boxes in the far corner of the shop.

"Ah! Here we are," he exclaimed, plucking out a box and bringing it back to her. He held it just out of arms reach. "If you are open to the idea, I would like you to try this. It's not like your old wand, but I think…it will suit you well."

Hermione looked into the box curiously, and a sense of recognition tickled her skin, reminding her of how she felt when she had seen her first wand. She lifted the lid, and inside a beautifully crafted dark blue-grey wand was waiting for her. Its handle was a twisted knot of sculpted vines, with tiny images of leaves and flower buds subtly etched into the surface, much like her first wand. In fact, except for the color, the two wands looked nearly identical.

_Probably still vinewood then_. Though, the air about this one seemed a little different, a little more serious than her other wand.

Gently, as if she were picking up the delicate shell of an Ashwinder Egg, she gathered the wand, her fingers closing around the base comfortably. Instantly, a rush of cool air, not unpleasant in the least, wrapped around her body, raising goose bumps on her arms and making her heart race. Instinctively, she pushed against the feeling with her magic, encircling its presence easily, and for a brief moment, there was a connection, a welcoming greeting pushing at her mind. And then, just like that it was gone, the cool air retreated to wherever it had come from.

Still, a sense of awareness, of the carved vine she held, lingered. It was there, gently reassuring her with its presence, sinking into her magic like a soothing balm. She could almost feel its readiness, its excitement in finally finding a master. It was like a small hum of magic, that purred against the palm of her hand, like a cat stretching out leisurely after a satisfying nap.

Hermione blinked down at the wand, a suspicion, that she had just been tested and approved of teasing her mind. Her magic was still buzzing from the short connection, so she looked to the Wand-maker for answers. "What was that?"

Knowing eyes twinkled with satisfaction. "I cannot say. Whatever occurs between a wand and its owner is a private affair. However, it does seem particularly happy with you. A match well made, I should say."

A warm smile blossomed on her face. Yes, it certainly did feel like a good match. This wand, it GOT her, it understood her magic, who she was. She could feel it. A wonderful surprise, since she wasn't expecting to ever find such a connection again.

Testing it out, she gave it a quick swish, and a tight ball of blue fire flew from the tip to float in front of her. Its light seemed brighter and sharper than usual. She looked back at the blue-grey wand, extremely pleased.

"This is still vinewood," she stated, "but it's not like my old one, is it?"

"Indeed, it is not. Most vinewood wands are made from English Ivy vines, which are a common sight around here. THIS wand, however, is called a Blue Vine wand, and is crafted from Oriental Bittersweet vines. It's an invasive plant that can be aggressive, and when paired with a Dragon Heartstring, as this one is, they become rather stubborn when it comes to finding an owner. They'll only bow to someone with a considerably formidable mind and strong will. They also tend to favor those with purpose, like their cousin wood, BUT if properly subdued, the magic it helps create can be extremely precise and powerful, making it ideal for intricate and advanced Spellwork."

Hermione marveled at the skinny piece of vine, absurdly delighted with it. "It's perfect," she breathed.

"Sure is a pretty one," Tonks remarked, peering at the wand over her shoulder. "I take it, this is the one you want to buy then?"

Gripping the wand protectively, Hermione vigorously nodded. "Yes! I'll take it!"

"Marvelous!" Ollivander ushered them over to an antiquated cash register. "Let's ring you up then."

After giving the wizard the correct amount of coins, Hermione and Tonks left the store, the younger witch gazing happily at her new wand the whole time. That same feeling of giddiness followed her throughout the rest of their shopping trip, as the two witches enthusiastically passed through Madam Malkin's, Flourish and Blotts, and Amanuensis' Quills, before finally heading back to Grimmauld Place, in high spirits and weighed down by shopping bags.

* * *

Upon entering the kitchen, Hermione and Tonks were immediately greeted by the sight of Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey shifting through a bunch of scattered papers and scrolls that were spread out in front of them on the table. The two older witches looked up when they came through, putting their bags down on the tiled floor.

"Ah! There you girls are," Pomfrey called out, tucking away a few scrolls. "Just who we were looking for, actually."

"Did you have a nice trip?" McGonagall inquired.

"Yeah, it was brilliant! And we got Hermione here all squared away," Tonks answered her, then turned to Hermione, clapping her on the back. "Well, it's been great, Granger, but I have to be getting back on duty. We'll have to do this again some time, but you know, with you actually wearing your own face for a change."

With one last wink towards Hermione, Tonks gave a salute to the other women, then left them to their paperwork, gathering her purchases as she went.

"Well, I'm glad you were able to get everything you needed," McGonagall commented, picking up a stack of papers and handing them to her pupil. "But now, I'm afraid some documents need to be handled."

Accepting the pile, Hermione leafed through them, skimming the blocky titles at the head of each page. "This is for my "internship" in Australia?"

McGonagall nodded. "Quite right, Miss Granger. This is the paperwork you would have filled out, had you really traveled while still in school. I've already talked to your parents and had them sign off the appropriate permission slips, and," she affirmed, pausing to grab a few more papers, to add to Hermione's pile, "these are for your age verification. I'll have some copies for you later, so you can read through them if you wish, but for now, I'll just need you to sign where I say."

"Alright." Hermione picked up a quill, dipping it in an ink pot and tapping it against the side lightly.

McGonagall lead her through each packet, pointing out the lines that needed her signature and which ones didn't. The younger Gryffindor had assumed that she would be doing something a little more extensive, like answering questions or writing project summaries, but all of that had already been done for her.

The questionnaire that she would have filled out, had she really been petitioning for a leave of absence, was magically clipped to the back, each answer neatly filled out in her sharp handwriting. A copy of one of the project proposals that she had put together with Professor Flitwick (in preparation for her apprenticeship) was also attached, as well as one of her more recent Charms essays and a letter of recommendation from both Flitwick and McGonagall on the merits of her wand work.

_How on Earth did they set this all up in one day?_ Hermione thought, finishing up her signature with a final flourish of her quill. "There we go, that should be the last of the paperwork for my Australia trip," she sighed, giving her professor the stack of papers, and watching as they were put into an envelope and sealed.

"Very good, Miss Granger. We're almost done," McGonagall responded, putting the envelope away in her robes. "Now, we just need to finish the age verification forms and then we can all go about our business. Poppy, if you will." She gestured the other witch forward.

Opening a large medical bag, the Mediwitch pulled out a little tin box, with a large dent on the roof. Popping open the clasp, she pulled out a long white strip, and…that was it.

"Is that it?" Hermione asked, eyeing the little item in Madam Pomfrey's hand. "It doesn't look like much."

Amused, the Matron chuckled good naturedly. "What did you think this would involve? Oodles Potions and complex spells?"

Yes, actually, that was exactly what she had been expecting. She ducked her head in embarrassment, happy that she, at least, hadn't said as much out loud.

The Mediwitch continued, "No, my dear. I'm only checking your age. This little bit of enchantment will suffice." She stepped forward, peeling off the clear, protective lid. "Hold still," she instructed Hermione, then stuck the white paper to the Gryffindor's forehead with a quick Sticking Charm. "There we are."

Grabbing a clipboard and quill, Madame Pomfrey carefully watched the age tracker, her eyes squinting in concentration. Hermione watched on, shifting in her seat nervously as she waited. She couldn't feel anything from the age tracker (aside from some itchiness from the Sticking Charm), or see anything, so she had no idea what they were supposed to wait for.

Finally, after a few minutes, Pomfrey smiled, cheering, "Aha!", and her quill scratched out something on her clipboard. "Well, my dear, not too much damage was done, only a couple of years. Your official age is now twenty years, ten months and sixteen days."

Hermione wasn't too surprised by the number, as she had given a similar one to Dumbledore last night anyway, and by her calculations her age now meant that her "new birthday" would be somewhere in the beginning of June, now. Not that bad.

"It's workable," Professor McGonagall murmured, thoughtfully, looking at her not-so-young-anymore student. "We'll just have to move a few more classes around, but fortunately enough, you've taken enough extra courses that that's easily done."

Madam Pomfrey handed her colleague one last packet of paper, the Ministry logo proudly embossed on the top right hand corner. "This is the last one, Minny."

Taking the papers, McGonagall quickly read through it, pointing out where Hermione needed to sign it, then tucked it away into another envelope and stashed it away with the others.

"Well, our job here is done," Madam Pomfrey confirmed, gathering her medic bag up, as she and McGonagall prepared to leave.

"Indeed. I'll be picking you up in the morning around nine o' clock, to bring you back to the school, and will have something to disguise your new look for the remainder of the year, Miss Granger," McGonagall told her, then grinned, her austere features softening. "And, I believe there is a little surprise waiting for you in the library."

"Surprise?" Hermione perked up.

"Yes, a surprise." McGonagall chuckled, shooing her out of the kitchen. "Now off with you. You have an exciting day tomorrow."

Looking over her shoulder curiously, Hermione watched her professor wave her away, before heading up to the library to see what her big surprise was. Considering it was in the library, she naturally assumed that it was some kind of book. Not that she knew what kind of book her professor thought she needed. _Unless it has to do with the help Professor Dumbledore said he give me with getting Fera out. _

Could that be the surprise? Had Dumbledore already come through on securing some obscure Soul Book texts?

Eager now, Hermione rushed into the library ready to get her hands on the new material, but instead of finding old, expensive tomes, she found two young wizards, nervously pacing in front of the fireplace.

Laughter bubbled up in her throat as a wave of happiness crashed through her. "Harry! Ron!" Hermione shouted, running towards her best friends and pulling them into a bone-crushing hug.

"HERMIONE!" they said as one, their voices laced with relief, as they drew her closer.

Tears unwittingly began falling from her cheeks, soaking their shoulders as she mumbled into their clothes, "This is way better than finding books."

"Ha! Never thought I'd ever hear YOU say that, 'Mione," Ron joked, causing the three friends to laugh jovially, and collapse onto the nearest couch, with Hermione sandwiched in the middle.

Finally, she pulled away, wiping at her eyes. "Yeah, well, can you blame me? What are you guys doing here anyway? It's still a school night."

"Aw, come on, 'Mione. This is a special occasion!" Ron whined, playfully. "Can't believe you're still worrying about school at a time like this."

"Hush," Hermione shushed him, smacking the back of his head. "I meant, how did you guys get away without anyone knowing? Dumbledore wanted to keep all this quiet."

"Well, we're supposed to be going with McGonagall to 'pick you up from the port key dock'. You know, like a welcoming committee, " Harry explained.

"We'll be staying here with you for the night, then we'll head to the school all together," Ron added. "Dumbledore thought you'd like some company to help you face the horde tomorrow."

"Of course. I'm glad you guys decided to come," Hermione responded instantly, more than grateful that the headmaster had done this for her.

Clutching the brunette's hand, Harry gave it a meaningful squeeze, his lopsided smile trembled a bit. "We really missed you 'Mione…I─I'm so glad you're okay."

"Thanks," Hermione sniffed, accepting a tissue from Ron. "You can't believe how much I thought about you guys when I was in that book."

Harry was the first to bring up the question that was burning in both of the boys' minds. "Hermione, what did happen? Nobody would tell us anything, when we asked. Just that you were lost in some dangerous book because of dark magic and that Snape was working on getting you out." His eyes were practically begging for answers.

A sigh left Hermione, as she sank back into the couch. She knew this question would come up, had even prepared some answers for them, but now that she was really facing her best friends, she found she couldn't lie to them. Not after everything they had gone through together. So, looking at them seriously and coming to a decision, Hermione rolled up her sleeve to expose her wordy tattoo.

"You remember how we guessed that this─" she pointed at the circles of latin "─could help us, help YOU finally defeat Voldemort?"

Understanding flickered across Harry's face, and he grabbed at her arm. "Hermione, you can't mean…"

Looking proud, and more than a little smug, Hermione confirmed his suspicions. "I've found it! I've found a way for you to finally kill that maniac!"

"You can't be serious," Ron joined in, stunned. "How on Earth did you find that? Was it in the book?"

"Sort of. A woman, who had been trapped in the book as well, Fera, had been working on a project prior to her capture, that would help Aurors SHARE their magic."

"Bloody hell. That's amazing," Ron whispered in awe. "Harry, mate, you know what we could do with something like that?"

Harry, who at this point was too shocked to say anything, just stared straight ahead into the library's fire. His eyes were suspiciously wet. Sharing a quick look with Ron, Hermione gave the dark-haired boy a one-armed hug, resting her head on his shoulder.

Her voice was low as she continued. "I can't tell you guys everything about it, because I promised her I wouldn't talk to anyone about it without her permission─you two will need to take wand oaths, by the way─and her work isn't complete, or safe to use just yet, but she's given me the go ahead to finish it for you. To help you."

"I've been scared out of my mind, thinking about facing him, but...I...thank you, Hermione. Thank you," Harry choked out, leaning into her embrace.

"I haven't got it yet, you know. It's still a jumbled mess. There are references I have to find, experiments to replicate, a million variables to weigh," Hermione reminded him, with a self-deprecating smirk.

Ron snorted. "Please, if anyone can do it, you can, 'Mione."

"Yeah," Harry quickly agreed, "and if you need anything, you just have to ask."

The offer was exactly what she needed to hear. Even though she knew there wasn't much they could do, research was never their forte after all, she still appreciated the sentiment behind it, and knew that they would remain a silent pillar of strength for her regardless.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, guys," Hermione breathed out, a sense of peace that she hadn't felt since she had come back, finally settling in her bones. God, how she had missed these two. "So, tell me, anything interesting happen while I was away?"

This earned a chuckle from the other two. "Are you kidding me? You wouldn't believe the rumors going around about you." Ron nudged her with his elbow. "Some are saying that you've skipped out of England to avoid Voldemort and that you've abandoned us all."

"That's not the best one, Harry added derisively, "The best one is that you've fallen madly in love with some Muggle bloke, and gone to America, completely up the duff."

"WHAT?!" Hermione couldn't even be offended. The idea was just that ridiculous. "Tell me more."

The three of them stayed in the library, cuddled on the couch, laughing and talking constantly hugging, and touching each other as if reaffirming that they were all really there, together. Eventually they migrated to the floor, conjuring pillows and blankets to sleep on because the thought of separating, even for a night to go sleep in their beds, wasn't nearly as appealing as just hanging out in the library. So it was in there that they fell asleep, their bodies awkwardly piled on top of each other and their hands still tightly clasped. It was the best night's sleep that any of them had had in a long time.

* * *

**A/N: Yay friendship! Hoped you enjoyed the trio's ****reunion, as well as the first glimpse of Tonk/Lupin action (waggles eyebrows). I really do love those two lovebirds-so cute!~**

**And I hope you liked Hermione's new wand. I couldn't find anything on Pottermore I liked for her (aside from vine wood, but I still wanted to show how much she had changed while away) so I made up my own wood. **

**Next chapter: Hermione's miraculous return**

**~Review please!~**


	19. Awkward Mornings and Impertinent Witches

**Disclaimer: See Beginning**

**Hello all! First and foremost, thank you for the reviews and the support! It's so awesome to see! And a thank you to my betas, McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe. **

**Hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

**Last Time:**

"So, tell me, anything interesting happen while I was away?"

This earned a chuckle from the other two. "Are you kidding me? You wouldn't believe the rumors going around about you."

* * *

Chapter 18

The sunshine breaking through the windows disturbed Hermione's sleep too soon for her liking.

With an irritable grumble, she yanked at her blankets to pull them over her head rebelliously, but they didn't move. With her eyes still stubbornly closed, she tried again, hoping to unsnag it from whatever piece of furniture it had caught on before her brain had the chance to wake up fully.

_Is it wedged under the coffee table or something?_

Grunting in frustration, Hermione patted blindly below her to find the sleep-depriving culprit and ended up smacking something surprisingly soft. It was almost like…feathers? But that couldn't be right. Why would there be feathers lying on the floor next to her? There weren't any there last night, right?

An angry huff and a shifting to her left had Hermione realizing that she hadn't been assaulting a feathery coffee table, but one of her friends. She cracked one eye open, just enough to make out a chaos of red hair. With a sigh, she muttered "Sorry Ron…" before she scooted back, squeezing her eyes shut again, hoping against hope that she'd still be able to fall back asleep.

She had nearly managed to achieve her goal too, when she felt Ron moving around again, and heard him squeak out, "Merlin," under his breath.

Harry, who must have been up at this point as well, whispered, "Knock it off, Ron," and then there was a soft thud, like a pillow had been thrown at one of them.

"I'm sorry!" Ron whispered back frantically. "I can't help it! They're just…there!"

_What on earth are those two talking about now? And why can't they do it a little quieter? _

Seeing that she wouldn't be able to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep, Hermione let her eyes flutter open. What meager scrap of blanket she had managed to tug closer, fell, pooling around her waist as she slowly sat up.

"Alright," she said, addressing the boys sleepily, "what are you arguing about so early in the morning?"

Harry automatically looked to Ron expectantly. This made the already blushing redhead squirm from his spot on the floor.

"I…" Ron began, looking everywhere but at Hermione. "I…I'm going to go get dressed!" He jumped up from the floor and scuttled out of the room.

Hermione watched his hasty departure in confusion. "What was all that about?" she asked Harry.

Her other best friend snorted, but she noticed that there was the smallest of blushes staining his pale cheeks as well. He pointed one hesitant finger at her chest, his eyes firmly in another direction.

"Wha…" she looked down, then blushed herself at the skewed nightshirt. It must have gotten ruffled up sometime during the night while she was tossing and turning. As a consequence, a small bit of her cleavage was now showing. It was nothing too indecent, t_hank God_, but it was more than either boy had ever seen from her.

Her fingers snapped at the buttons of her shirt, fixing the problem quickly. "Sorry 'bout that," she muttered. "Though, you'd think I'd flashed Ron with the way he bolted out of here."

"Be easy on him, he's had a crush on you forever."

Her head snapped up. "He has not!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on, Hermione, you know he's fancied you since third year. You couldn't tell? Especially after the whole Krum thing?"

"Well, I had an inkling, but I wasn't sure. It's not like he's ever said anything to me," she replied, self-consciously.

It had seemed like so long ago to her now that she couldn't really recall what Harry was talking about. She had a hazy recollection of his jealous fit when Victor had taken her to the Yule Ball, and she could admit that she had entertained ideas about being with Ron at the time, but it never went any farther than that.

He had never said anything afterward, even when she prodded him for answers, so she had assumed his jealousy was just a fluke. A one-time thing engendered from circumstance. Things had slowly returned to normal between the two friends and any thoughts of "what if" were forgotten.

At least Hermione had assumed that they had been forgotten. She wasn't sure how she felt, learning that Ron hadn't moved on like she thought he had. Like she had.

Maybe she should talk to him. Convince him that they would be absolutely horrid as a couple. She didn't want to lead him on, and she certainly didn't want this to fester and eventually ruin their friendship. She had just gotten her best friends back. She didn't want to lose one of them again!

Seeing her distress, Harry grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. "Don't freak out about it, Hermione. Sure, he likes you, but he wasn't ever going to say anything about it. Especially not now."

"What do you mean, 'not now'?"

One of Harry's hands rose to scratch at his neck nervously. "Well," he tried to explain, "he likes you, yeah, but even when there might have been a chance for him, I don't think he believed he could take it. I mean, I think he knew from the start, you know?"

"Knew what?"

"Well…you know, there's a gap there, right? He knew it wouldn't work because you two are on different levels. Not that he's beneath you or anything, but you guys have never been on the same…field, I guess." Harry paused, thinking over his words. "And now, since you've been back, the gap has just gotten bigger, I think, and he knows it. So rather than risk your friendship, he just let it go."

Hermione sat back, stunned by this revelation. "Oh…" Now she felt slightly guilty. Ron was her best friend, and while she couldn't return his feelings (that was too far in the past for her now), she still didn't like leaving the boy hanging by himself.

"Hermione," Harry said, interrupting her thoughts. "Stop worrying about it. He's not secretly in love with you or anything. Actually, I think he kind of fancies Lavender, now. He's been talking to her for a month, at least. Won't shut up about how her hair smells too. It's getting a bit annoying, really."

A rush of relief filled her, and Hermione let out a breath. She wasn't sure how she felt about Ron flirting with her dorm mate, whom she thought was a little on the silly side, but at least he wasn't pining after her or anything.

A knock on the door interrupted the two friends, and both turned, expecting to see the third member of their group coming back in. Instead, Professor McGonagall, dressed in her usual teaching garb, stood patiently in the doorway.

One look at their undressed state had the Head of Gryffindor pursing her lips in displeasure. "Why aren't you two up and ready to go? Breakfast has already started at Hogwarts, and we're late enough as it is. Now up! You have ten minutes to collect your things and meet me by the Floo."

Her robes fluttered behind her as she rushed from the room, not staying to make sure her orders were followed. She didn't need to. Both Gryffindors were well used to that particular tone and knew that it was in their best interest to obey as fast as they could, lest they feel their professor's wrath.

So, scrambling, they set the room to rights and packed away their things, then they ran to their rooms to properly change into their school uniforms.

Hermione took a little bit longer than Harry. Not only did her hair take some time to wrestle back into a semi-neat bun, but she also found herself caught up in a moment of nostalgia, as she put on her uniform for the first time in two years. She pressed her hands down her starchy white shirt, a small smile forming on her lips.

It felt surprisingly good to be wearing her Gryffindor colors again.

Snapping out of her reminiscing, she snatched up her old bag, and rushed to the sitting room where Professor McGonagall, Harry and Ron were waiting for her.

"Do you have everything, my dear?" McGonagall asked. Hermione nodded. "Very well, get in the Floo then. Time is of the essence."

Like a mother duck nudging her offspring along, McGonagall shoved them all towards the roaring green fire that was waiting to take them back to Hogwarts. She stopped Hermione only for a second to whisper, "Claws out, my girl. Make me proud," in her ear, before she shoved the younger witch into the fire as well.

* * *

Severus paced outside of the teacher's entrance to the Great Hall, waiting for Minerva to arrive with Granger. Tucked in his palm was a plain, silver chained necklace with only a small, iridescent black pearl hanging at its center.

It was a vast improvement from what Albus had suggested. He could remember clearly the happy look on the Headmaster's face when he presented his choice to Minerva, Filius and him: a garish gold bracelet with fairies sculpted into the sides, and an explosion of rubies peppered in.

Severus shuddered just thinking about it. It was the sort of thing Trelawney might wear to look more magically impressive. It was that ugly.

Of course, Severus had strongly objected to it right away, his opinion quickly seconded by Minerva, who couldn't stand the sight of the bracelet even if it was in Gryffindor colors.

Their plan had been to find an inconspicuous item that Filius could place Miss Granger's Glamor Charms on. Something that wouldn't wear off in a few hours like a spell placed directly on her person would. They had decided on using jewelry to accomplish this because it was mundane enough that Granger could wear it all the time without raising any suspicions.

Albus' choice definitely did NOT fit that criterium. So it fell to the other professors to find an object that was more appropriate.

Since Minerva was still busy getting the paperwork ready, and Flitwick had his hands full taking over the role of Deputy Head in her absence, that had left Severus with the tedious task of picking something out.

Naturally, he hadn't been looking forward to the job. He was good at reading people, yes, but that didn't mean he knew anything about buying jewelry for young witches. The very idea of it left him extremely irritated with Albus for putting him in yet another undesirable situation.

Thankfully, fate seemed to be on his side for once and he had stumbled across the necklace, at a small, barely noticeable, jewelry stall in London.

It was simple, yet elegant. Nothing too ostentatious, yet decent enough for a witch to wear, and to top it all off, the pearl, as the stall attendant had explained to him, was from an Australian Black-Lip Pearl Oyster.

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, he had ended up buying it, and since no one had objected when he had presented his find, he had given it to Filius so the Charms professor could weave in the Glamor needed to camouflage Granger's appearance, as well as her obnoxious tattoo.

Now, he just had to get it into Miss Granger's incredibly late hands.

"Severus!"

Minerva was headed his way, walking briskly down the hall with a determined frown. Potter, Weasley and Granger were trailing behind her, out of breath and trying their best to keep up with their Head of House, much to the amusement of the Potions Professor. He would have to remember to mock Minerva about her out of-shape-cubs later on.

"Have you got it?" the older witch asked.

Severus opened his palm, exposing the small piece of jewelry inside. "Filius just finished it an hour ago. Is everything in the dorm set?"

"Yes. And all the paperwork has been taken care of as well."

"Even the Muggle documents?"

"Miss Jones has already seen to it."

"Good," Snape responded. Then he turned to Miss Granger, beckoning her closer.

"Sir?" The young witch stepped away from her friends, whom Minerva had commandeered to give a much-needed last minute pep talk. Severus doubted that the two boys truly understood the precariousness of the situation they all found themselves in, but he hoped that they could at least be cowed into following instructions just this once.

The Order was lucky that the bulk on the scheme rested on the more sensible member of the Gryffindor trio. It, at least, gave this ruse a fighting chance.

"This has several Glamor Charms built into it that should revert your appearance to what it was before you left," he informed Granger, lifting the necklace up for her to see. "It will also adequately hide the words on your hand."

Gingerly, she plucked the necklace from between his fingers. She examined it, smiling softly. "It's very pretty. Where did you get it from?"

_Pretty?_ He balked at the word, feeling discomfited by its use.

He hadn't bought the necklace because he wanted her to have something _pretty_. He had bought it because the Order required it. It was a retrieval assignment. That was it.

And yet, as he was confronted with Miss Granger's approval over something HE had picked out, he found himself in an odd and uncomfortable predicament. Something about this situation seemed wholly inappropriate now. Like the necklace was no longer just an assignment but also an unintentional gift, and all at once, he became aware of the fact that he had bought _jewelry_ for one of his female students. Sure it was on Albus' order, but the thought still chafed at his mind.

If he was prone to fidgeting he probably would have been squirming by now, but thank Merlin he was able to resist that urge, instead standing up straighter and crossing his arms so he looked as imposing as possible.

"Does it matter?" he snapped out, startling her into looking up.

"Well," she mused, "I suppose not. It's just that whoever chose it must know me very well."

His hands clenched in the crooks of his arms. "It's just a necklace, Miss Granger. Now, put it on. I want to get this debacle over with."

She did as she was told, fussing with the silver chain, and trying to click the clasp together behind her neck without being able to see. Heaving a frustrated sigh, she swiped at the curls that had fallen from her carefully pinned bun and gotten in the way.

Severus watched her struggle with a satisfied grin, not even bothering to help her, or remind her that she had magic at her disposal. For one, he had no desire to touch that blasted necklace again. Secondly, a vindictive part of him, that was annoyed with how much she had liked it, took a certain amount of satisfaction from her frustration.

Let the witch suffer. _Pretty indeed_.

There was a click, as the clasps finally came together, and Granger blew out a breath of relief. A small twinkling light came from the dark pearl, and before Snape's eyes, the brunette began transforming.

Her cheeks became rounder, taking on a few layers of baby fat, she lost a couple of inches in height, the scar (a slim red line only a thumb's width long) on her left cheek disappeared, and her hair became a little more wiry. Her body also became a touch more slim in certain areas, but Severus refused to focus on that.

Instead, his focus was elsewhere, like on how little the Charm had actually changed. _Was this really what she had looked like before she left?_ He didn't remember her looking this way before. An image of her as a buck-toothed first year flashed in his mind, and he wondered when this change had started occurring and how he had missed it.

"Well, that felt odd. I can't really see it, though. Did it work?" she asked him, staring at her hands intensely.

He was about to confirm that it was a success when something in her face, in her eyes, caught his attention. Her brown gaze was off somehow. Something about just didn't fit, but what…

The answer popped into his head a second later.

They looked older. Her eyes were lacking a certain naivety and innocence that Granger had had before she left. There was experience swimming among the brown hues now, a touch of darkness and a weightiness, as if she knew what it was like to have lives depend on her. It was something that the Hermione from before had lacked.

"Your eyes are a bit off, but it's nothing that we can fix. It will do."

Granger brought a hand up to her one of her eyes, self-consciously. "Are you sure no one will notice?"

"I highly doubt it. This school seems to have an overabundance of simpletons, who can barely recognize their own reflections much less a change in someone else," he muttered, sarcastic venom dripping out of his mouth.

A curious thing happened then, something that no student, save his Slytherins, had ever done. The witch actually CHUCKLED at his jibe. It was an experience that Severus wasn't wholly prepared for, especially coming from this Gryffindor who seemed determined to throw him off today.

First, his necklace was pretty, and now he was funny. What was wrong with this woman? He gathered his robes around him and gritted his teeth.

"Sir, can I ask you a question?"

He said nothing, glaring at her. Not that this stopped Granger from asking anyway. Merlin forbid anything that should ever stop her from asking one of her damn questions.

"Earlier, you said that you just wanted to get this debacle over with. Does that mean you don't think the plan will work?"

A sudden need to get back at the witch for being such a thorn in his side struck him, and he found himself coming up with a biting response. "My negative opinions do not lie in the plan, rather the people we have to depend on for it to succeed."

As expected, Granger bristled at the implied insult. "And what do you mean by that?"

He stared at her, a mocking smirk on his lips. Her bubbling indignation was actually quite amusing. It was like a cat puffing up its fur and reminded him of how Minerva usually reacted when he messed with her.

Gryffindors. They were all so predictably entertaining.

"I'm sure your usual method of blundering your way through every challenge like a herd of rampaging Hippogriffs works well for you, but this plan demands a certain degree of subtlety that members of a certain House are notorious for lacking."

Granger put her hands on her hip and lifted her head defiantly, and Severus was reminded of the look she had given him when he found her on the Astral Plane that first time, and again during the Order Meeting.

"Are you saying I'm a liability? Because I can pull my own weight…sir," she said, adding in the 'sir' as an afterthought.

"Miss Granger, need I remind you; I've seen your pathetic attempts at subterfuge before."

"That was over two years ago. I assure you, I'm perfectly capable of a bit of acting now." Brown eyes narrowed, her left eyebrow twitched slightly, and it took all of Severus' talent in Occlumency to stop himself from laughing at her. He prodded her a bit more.

"A weed is a weed, even if it paints itself red and calls itself a rose."

"You─"

"I'm still your professor, Miss Granger," he interrupted her, quietly. Though it was less of a warning and more of a taunt. Like he was dangling her favorite toy above her head, out of reach.

"Agh!" She threw up her hands, sent him a look of utter loathing and stomped away to her friends. Snape was pretty sure she muttered something like "are," under her breath, but he let her get away with it this time. Their little spat went a long way to appeasing his earlier irritation, and he did just finish calling her a weed, after all. If he had done that with Minerva, he would have been transfigured into a mouse and thrown into a cage of owls.

"Let's go, boys. It's time to start the show." Grabbing them by the arms, Granger dragged them away from the two professors. Her face was set in steely determination.

Minerva glided over to his side. "What did you say to that poor girl?" She poked at his chest.

"Nothing at all. I was simply wishing her luck," Snape lied smoothly, keeping the weed comment to himself. Even if it wasn't directed at her, Minerva might still feed him to the owls on Granger's behalf.

"Hmph! As if I would believe that!" Minerva said sharply, then she sighed. "Honestly, Severus, why must you goad all of my Gryffindors into plotting your murder."

"Possibly because I know that the chances of any of them succeeding is as likely as the odds of me turning into a three-headed dragon." He opened the door for McGonagall, sending her a teasing smirk as she went through. "Besides, you can consider it my payment for putting up with all the little shits in the first place."

"I guess I should just be grateful that you haven't killed any of them yet." Minerva stepped up onto the Dias, and headed to her seat beside Albus. Severus followed the older witch, wiping his face of any amusement so he looked just as indifferent as ever.

He made his way down the table to the other side, choosing an open spot by Filius.

"Good evening, Severus," the Charms professor said. Snape nodded his head in response, as he pulled the chair out and sat down.

"Has everything been handled?"

"It has," Severus said, keeping his voice low so it wouldn't be overheard. "Tonight will certainly be interesting."

Right on cue, the doors to the Great Hall opened up, and the stars of the evening sauntered inside, huddled up close together as if they were having a private conversation.

A hush fell over the hall as one by one the students began to realize that Hermione Granger was finally back. The silence lasted only a second, and then the whispering began.

It was interesting watching the flow of gossip that spread across the student body like wild fire. The looks on every face that ranged from excitement, burning curiosity, and outright disbelief. And that was just at the Gryffindor table.

Severus glanced at his Slytherins, noticing that a handful was staring at the brunette witch with far too much interest. He noted that many of them were on his list of potential Death Eater spies and felt a stab of disappointment. He would have to remember to mention this to Albus later.

His godson was among the intrigued party and was leaning over to say something to Zabini. The two shared an intense look, and then Zabini nodded reluctantly. Draco went back to his breakfast, while Zabini continued to peer at Granger, a calculating gleam in his eye.

_Interesting, _Severus thought. He knew for a fact the Zabinis were a neutral party in the war and from what he knew of Blaise, the boy had little patience for the Dark Lord or any of his followers. So why was he watching Granger?

He would have to investigate later, find out what one of his more cunning snakes was up to.

"My, that didn't take long at all, did it?" Filius said next to him, as he looked at the increasingly eager faces of the school, and their blatant ogling. Even some of the other professors couldn't help but gawk at the witch of the hour.

"Of course not. This school is a hot bed for gossip. This was bound to happen."

"Do you think Miss Granger will be able to convince everyone?"

"Everyone? No. But perhaps the majority. Either way, there's no going back now," Severus replied, turning his attention to the Gryffindor table just as the trio of friends took a seat near the Weasley girl and Longbottom.

Potter and Weasley were the first to sit down, chucking their book bags aside as they greeted their friends. Ginevra, bless her, jumped up from her seat and rushed to Hermione's side, pulling the brunette into a squeezing hug.

_She must be the 'support' Minerva was talking about._

"Hermione! I'm so glad that you're back. You took forever to answer my last letter!" the redheaded girl said, reproachfully.

Nearly everyone in the dining hall held their breath in anticipation, as someone finally broached the topic buzzing on everyone's mind.

The Slytherins, Ravenclaws and a few Hufflepuffs were at least trying not to appear like they were eavesdropping, but no one at the Gryffindor table bothered with such pretenses. They all leaned in, waiting for Granger's answer. The Finnigan boy even went so far as to question Hermione outright.

"So it's true then," Finnigan interjected, almost accusingly, "You were off somewhere in Australia."

Granger turned to the boy, her hands going to her hips. "Well, of course I was. What do you mean─'is it true'?"

"Well, word is, you weren't there. Least none of us heard you say anything about Australia before break, and we're in your House!" At his words, some of the whispering started up again.

Having the good sense not to cave and blow her cover, Granger stuck to her guns. She sighed dramatically, and it was filled with so much haughty condescension that even Severus was partially impressed.

"No offense, Seamus," she addressed the boy, "but why would I tell you about my plans for break? I mean, I have no idea where YOU went. So, if you never told me your plans, why should you expect me to tell you mine? Besides, it was all kind of last minute. I only just got the confirmation from Master Parvus a day after break started."

"Yeah, but─"

"Oh, knock it off, Seamus!" Ginevra scolded the boy, and Severus mentally thanked Minerva again for setting up something with the Weasley girl before hand. This was twice now that the girl had skillfully saved the conversation from deteriorating. He suspected that her skills had something to do with how she dealt with a house full of demanding boys.

He would never say it to the Head of Gryffindor, but she had chosen well.

Ginevra grabbed Granger's hand and pulled her away to a spot a little further away, beside Longbottom.

"Don't mind him," she told the brunette, "he's just being too nosey for his own good. Come sit by me."

"Thanks, Gin. Don't know what he has to be nosey about though. I'm not the first student to participate in a program abroad. In fact, there have been at least four other instances of students going on academic leave in the past three decades, the last being Nora Greenbay from Ravenclaw."

Severus blinked, taken aback. He remembered Miss Greenbay, as she was a student of his that had graduated five years ago. If he recalled correctly, her last semester as a seventh year was actually spent studying in China.

Clearly, Miss Granger had done her homework. Though, how she found this out in the short amount of time she had to prepare, he didn't know. Still it was an impressive improvisation.

Ginevra rolled her eyes. "Of course you would know. So, besides all that, how was Australia?"

Like a Christmas light, Granger's face lit up. "Oh, Gin, it was so fantastic!" she gushed, really stepping into her role. She took a seat and began rifling through her purse. With an "aha!" she pulled out an impossibly thick binder that had a minefield of sticky notes tucked in between each page. She dropped the binder down onto the table with a large thud, sending several plates and cups toppling over.

"Um, Hermione, what's that?" Longbottom asked, eyeing the book cautiously, as if it would jump up and bite him.

Granger tilted her head, giving the boy a look that said in volumes how simpleminded he was being. "It's my notes from my trip of course! What did you think I was doing in Australia? Watching paint dry?"

"All THAT is just notes? From only two weeks?" the Weasley boy asked, dropping the piece of bacon in his hand.

The sentiment was shared among most of the student body, which looked at the "notebook" in collective horror. Adding to their horror, and going a long way to dismantling the rumor mill, Granger began ecstatically babbling about some Charms Master from the fourteenth century, and his work in Spell Crafting.

Her mini lecture was tediously mind-numbing (to put it lightly) and soon had many eyes glazing over in disinterest. Students began turning back to their meal, their curiosity in the Gryffindor abandoned with each boringly dry fact that fell from her lips.

And just like that, nobody cared about Hermione Granger or her mysterious disappearance.

"By Merlin, I knew she could do it!" Filius whispered, clapping his hands together in satisfaction. Down the table, Minerva was practically preening, puffing out her chest proudly as she observed her prized pupil in action. Albus seemed to be satisfied with her performance as well, nodding to himself as if he had known that this was how the morning would pan out all along.

"It was nicely done, wasn't it, Severus?" Filius asked him.

"I suppose it was adequate," he admitted grudgingly to the smaller wizard. He picked up his fork and stabbed at a piece of hash, grumbling to himself.

As if she could feel the professors' thoughts on her, Granger stopped her speech long enough to gaze at the head table. She smiled at them all until she reached him at the end, then her grin transformed, dripping smugness.

It was the kind of smile that practically screamed, 'I Told You So!' and then the chit had the audacity to wink─WINK at him, barely hiding the gesture behind a hair flip.

With a death grip on his utensils, he glared at her, and unable to stop himself, sent her a quick thought, brushing it up against her shields for her to receive. _Don't get too cocky, Granger. This is only the beginning."_

She didn't have the skill to arrow a thought to him like he did, but he managed to mentally catch the clouded response she clumsily 'dropped' at him, before he slipped out of her mind.

_I would never, sir._

Breaking eye contact, he went back to stabbing the food on his plate. Though it had been foggy because of her lack of practice, he could make out the heavy sarcasm that she had wrapped around the thought.

"Impertinent witch…too damn smug by half," he muttered under his breath, too low for anyone to hear. His mind was already coming up with different scenarios he could create to take the maximum points from Gryffindor later on.

* * *

**A/N: Alright! Hermione is back at the school, the Slyth. spies are suspicious, Blaise + Draco are plotting, and Severus is totally going to plot revenge because seriously-_Pretty? _How dare Hermione use that word for the necklace he picked out! **

**Aaaaannnnyyway, next up: Narcissa comes back on the scene and Hermione discovers some interesting facts about the Slytherins. **

**Hoped you liked it! And while you're here click on that review button down there and give me some feedback! It would be much appreciated!**


	20. Awful Meetings and Determined Wives

**(Disclaimer: see the beginning)**

**Hello all! First off—OH MY GOD, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS! You guys are awesome, which makes me really bummed that it took me so long to get this chapter done, but it finally is! And I made it really long for you guys!**

** And now that I'm on break, more are definitely coming. **

**As always thank you to my betas McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe.**

**Hope you enjoy! ^-^**

* * *

Chapter 19

The minute Severus walked into the headmaster's office, he knew that he'd been had. At seven o' five in the morning, the only people present for the seven o' clock staff meeting were Flitwick, Minerva and Smith—a mousy-looking man who had taken up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year.

That meant that either all of the other teachers were held up by some disaster in the hallway or Albus had lied to him about the meeting time. Since the portraits absolutely lived to spread gossip, he knew he would have heard about an accident occurring, which canceled out that option.

So, Albus had lied to him. _Damn. _

He wasn't particularly upset by this. Albus lied to him all the time about when the meetings were meant to start. It was his trivial attempt to get the spy there on time, if not earlier. It never worked (this time excluded) and this vexed the Headmaster to no end, which, Severus confessed, was partially why he was constantly late. The other reason was that he absolutely **loathed** sitting around, twiddling his thumbs, while he waited on the others. He had too much to do to be idly sitting by.

So he waited to the very last second before heading out of his office. Being a spy and the Head of Slytherin, it wasn't hard to figure out the real time of the meeting. All he had to do was go to another teacher, ask a portrait or get a House Elf to tell him.

That was what he had done this time. He had gone to Vector to get the real time because he "forgot" and she had said seven. Needless to say, he would never go back to the little traitor for information again. So much for Slytherins sticking together.

Sullenly, he walked over to the fireplace to take a seat away from the others. He pushed his chair back a little until it was firmly tucked into the room's corner, giving him a perfect view of the whole room. Unfortunately, it also gave him a full view of Smith, who was directly across from him, tapping his foot as he waited for the meeting to begin.

Severus tsked in disgust. Smith was another in a long line of absolute failures when it came to the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. He wasn't all that bad, but as wizards went he was just totally underwhelming, which was hard to be in a world filled with wonder and magic, but there it was. He was completely dismissible, with his plain robes, his dull brown hair that was parted to side, and a terrible habit of saying "sorry" all the time, even if he only bumped into a chair. He even had a boring name. It was…

Severus had to think it over. _Norbert, no—Norman…Ed? _

It didn't matter. The man wasn't going to be back come September so there was no point in even trying to figure it out. Severus could see it in his very terrified eyes. He couldn't take the chaos of dealing with children or the everyday mishaps that came with living in a semi-sentient castle.

It wasn't a complete loss for the school. As far as professors went he was only passably good at his job. He tended to focus on just defense against dangerous creatures rather than showing the children how they could defend themselves in a duel.

Naturally, this made Smith less than useless in Severus' opinion. They were on the cusp of war, a war that the children would most likely get sucked into. They needed dueling practice, not banal facts on how to outwit a Sphinx.

Smith suddenly looked up, paling when he noticed that Severus had been staring at him. With a weak cough, he cleared his throat and nervously looked to the side. His stumpy fingers drummed on his armrest.

Severus smirked. _Utterly useless. _

A spark hit his right foot. From across the room Minerva tapped her wand against her palm, a frown of disapproval pulling down the corners of her mouth. Severus gazed back, unapologetic. It wasn't his fault that Smith had a wet noodle for a spine.

"Ah, Severus! So glad to see you taking the staff meetings seriously. And a full twenty minutes early too!"

Severus cut his eyes at the headmaster, who had just walked into the room. "What did you bribe Vector with?" he growled, jumping straight to the point. Using his normal Slytherin tactics never worked with Albus. He found it best just to demand answers from him.

"I have no idea what you mean, my boy."

"Don't play games, old man! What did you give her?" Severus demanded, not at all fooled by Albus' innocent act.

Minerva and Flitwick looked on in amusement, well used to the easy banter that took place between the staff and the headmaster. Minerva even went to so far as to join in, threatening the headmaster with, "it better not have been more than the three bottles of Scotch you gave **me** to stop telling Severus the correct time."

Severus swiveled in his chair to send a glare to McGonagall as well. "Et tu, Minerva?"

Smith, who was not used to the familiar manner in which the staff talked to each other, shifted anxiously in his seat. The movement caught Severus' eyes and the Potions Master inwardly smirked, viciously glad that the Defense professor was feeling so out of place among them.

Albus cleared his throat, taking a seat behind his desk to look more authoritative. "I confess, I haven't the foggiest idea what you all are talking about. I would never stoop so low as to bribe my teachers. Severus there's no shame in—"

"He switched my Hogsmeade weekend to next week instead of the last week of school." Septima waltzed into the room, confidently taking a seat beside Minerva. "I'm sorry, Severus, but it was either play along or risk my sanity. You know how the last Hogsmeade visit gets."

The last Hogsmeade visit was indeed as horrid as Septima made it out to be. Having been one of the unfortunate souls who had to chaperone it before, Severus reluctantly conceded to her point. He would have done the same thing as her in order to save himself. Slytherin loyalty only went so far.

"Fine," Severus snapped, "but I expect a bottle of Fire Whiskey."

His fellow Slytherin nodded, having expected as much. "Very well."

Behind her, a large group of teachers came in.

"What's this about Fire Whiskey?" Pomona asked, always looking for a good bit of gossip.

"Septima's traded her loyalty for a better Hogsmeade weekend. So she had to bribe her way back into Severus good graces," Flitwick informed the Head of Hufflepuff happily. Pomona instantly looked to Severus.

"Is that what this is about? Severus' tardiness?"

Poppy wagged a finger at him and he suddenly felt like he was a student again, being reprimanded for fighting in the halls. "Really, Severus, Albus wouldn't have to go to these lengths if you just showed up on time."

Snape crossed his arms defensively, straightening in his chair. "I'm a busy man," he grumbled, "I can't keep setting my work aside to come running every time Albus decides to call a meeting because one of the little brats sneezed the wrong way."

This comment earned him a few smothered snickers, including a reluctant agreement from Poppy, who looked at the headmaster accusingly.

Albus' eyes widened a bit, and, realizing the tides were shifting in Snape's favor, he quickly changed the subject. "Alright, seeing as it is close to seven-thirty anyway, why don't we start?"

"Aren't we going to wait for the rest of the staff?" Filius asked.

The other professors looked around curiously. The Charms professor was right. There were still a good number of teachers missing.

"No, I've only called a few of you here today because this meeting only concerns one student that you all share," Albus explained.

_Damn, _Severus thought, knowing exactly whom they were there for. There were nine other professors here besides him (excluding Poppy and Irma), and he only knew of one student that had the audacity to try and take that many subjects.

"Hermione Granger," Albus confirmed, and Severus sunk a little further in his seat, unable to suppress a sneer of irritation. The other professors nodded in understanding, moving forward a little. They were always eager to talk about the annoying know-it-all.

"It's been about eight or nine days since she returned from her internship in Australia," the Headmaster continued, "and I just wanted to check in with you all on her progress. I know she is undertaking the very ambitious task of graduating early and has already tested out of some of her sixth year courses."

"By my last count, she has already completed four of her ten finals," Minerva said, pulling out a small scrap of paper from her robes. Adjusting her glasses she read the list out loud. "Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy, Advanced Arithmancy, and History of Magic. Did I miss anything?"

Bathsheda spoke up. "She's completed my final exam, as well. Came in last night to get it done." The Ancient Runes professor flushed with excitement. "And she finished it in a fraction of the time allotted too! Only twenty minutes!"

"Same here!" Septima chimed in, looking entirely too pleased. "I handed her the test and before I could even look up she was already done. We even had a lovely discussion over the differences in using the Chaldean method versus the Agrippan on multilayered equations."

Septima shot an envious look to the Charms professor. "I tell you, Filius, if Miss Granger hadn't already decided on pursuing an apprenticeship with you, I'd be snatching her up before you could even blink! I still might try to persuade her to switch."

Filius laughed good-naturedly, despite the jealous grumblings going on around the room—though, why they were jealous, Severus had no idea. He couldn't imagine why they would want to hear Granger's pestering questions all day.

"You can try, Septima," Filius said, "but I doubt she'll change her mind. Miss Granger and I have already started drawing up her study plans for next year."

Aurora hummed thoughtfully. "So, is she going to attempt to take her NEWTs in the summer then? That's quite a lot of pressure, though, if the way her testing went with me is any indication of how she'll fare, then she'll do amazing. Might even break a few school records."

"If anyone can do it, 'Ermione can," Hagrid proclaimed, proudly.

"When's her next test?" Aurora asked the room.

Pomona brought a hand up. "She's taking her final with me around one, during the lunch break."

Smith blinked owlishly. "So soon? Is it normal for a student to be so advanced? I'll admit that Miss Granger really seems to know what she's on about in my class, but isn't she rushing a bit too much?"

Severus snorted at that. It wasn't very hard to do well in Smith's class. A brainless Troll could do the work that he assigned.

"Well, she'll want as much time as possible to study for her NEWTs, wouldn't she? If she's taking them in August, then she'll only have three months to cram in an entire school year's amount of work," Pomona replied.

"As much as I believe in her capabilities, Professor Smith does bring up a good point. I don't want to see Miss Granger run ragged trying to keep up with her impossible schedule. There's only so much a Time-Turner can do!" Poppy commented.

Bathsheda tapped her chin thoughtfully. "She has been a little frazzled as of late."

"She has! Why, just yesterday she hexed Mr. Potter for standing too close to her!" Minerva remarked, almost shamefully, as if she couldn't believe one of her precious Gryffindors were capable of doing such a thing.

Severus could believe it. Only this time he wholeheartedly approved of said behavior and found it particularly hilarious, even if it left him a little curious as to why she had done it.

"You can hardly blame the girl for hexing him, Minny," Pomona came to Granger's defense. "From what I saw, the boy has been hanging onto her like Devil's Snare ever since she's gotten back—she was only gone for two weeks, for Merlin's sake!"

Minerva straightened her robes. "Well the two have always been close."

Aurora leaned in, her eyes lighting mischievously. "Yes, but **how** close? I've always wondered about those two…"

"Oh, no, no, no! Everyone knows that Mr. Potter is interested in Ginevra Weasley. The two have been inseparable all year!" Pomona corrected her eagerly. "Mark my words we'll be hearing wedding bells shortly after those two graduate."

Septima worried her lip. "But I thought Miss Weasley was going out with Mr. Thomas."

Pomona waved her hand flippantly. "Oh, no, dear. Where have you been? They broke up ages ago…"

With growing agitation, Severus watched the tittering group of witches exchange gossip like it was mana. Rubbing at his temples, he had to wonder again why Albus didn't allow him to drink during these meetings.

The last thing he wanted to do was waste his time, ruminating over whether or not Potter was interested in the Weasley girl or Granger. Did his colleagues really have nothing better to do than squawk over who would be popping out babies in the next five years with who? There was a war going on, and teenage love was the least of their concerns at the moment.

_Especially for Miss Granger_. He didn't like the vexing Gryffindor, but even he knew that she had too much sense to get caught up in any romantic drivel, especially with the angst-ridden Potter. She had too many responsibilities and was far too practical to get stuck in that particular trap.

Thankfully, Albus took it upon himself to steer the wayward teachers back to the matter at hand. "As much as I would love to continue this conversation, there are still a few things I would like to cover before you leave."

When the room quieted down and he was sure that he had their attention again, the Headmaster continued. "Miss Granger's schedule has indeed been a little busy, but I felt that it was best for her to get as many subjects out of the way as possible. I also have complete faith in her abilities and know that she will be able to finish the rest of her finals without endangering her health. However, I have already let her know that if she feels like she isn't ready to take a test yet, then she is more than welcome to reschedule accordingly."

He looked around the room to see if they were all agreeable to this. His gaze lingered on Severus just a bit more than the others. "Now, I've talked to Miss Granger about staying in the castle during the summer. That way she will have the study materials she needs to do well on her NEWTs."

"It's a good idea. She'll certainly get more done here than at her on own house," Bathsheda noted.

"But there would be little to no faculty around in the summer to watch her," Irma pointed out.

Minerva immediately came to her pupil's defense. "Miss Granger is a legal adult, and a smart witch. She'll be more than capable of taking care of herself."

"And we know that she is a trustworthy individual. She wouldn't abuse the freedom we would be giving her," Aurora added.

Severus rolled his eyes. _Yes, because it's not as if Miss Granger has ever stolen ingredients from a teacher, snuck into the Restricted Section to experiment with potions outside of her level, or snuck out of the school to go on some idiotic rescue mission…_

"Exactly my thoughts on the subject," agreed Albus. "I'm more than confident that Miss Granger will make us all proud…Now!" He clapped his hands together. "I believe that covers everything, so, you are all free to go. Have a marvelous day!"

Severus was one of the first teachers to get up and head for the door after the dismissal. He had nearly gotten his hand around the doorknob when Albus called him back.

"Severus, a word if you will. Minerva, Filius, would you stay as well?"

Snape longingly watched the other professors leave, before throwing himself into the nearest chair. He had been so close to freedom. So close!

"What did you want, Albus?" he growled.

The headmaster gestured for them to take back their seats. "Due to the sensitivity of Miss Granger's predicament and the amount of work on her plate, I've given her permission to use your Floo, Minerva. So you might see her coming and going more often."

"Why would she need my Floo?"

Albus took a moment to think over his answer. "There are certain books in the Black residence that she wouldn't have access to here at Hogwarts."

_Dark Books, you mean_, Severus thought, not at all surprised that Granger might have to use…less sanctioned methods to get Miss Rosier's research working again. He was, however, a little amazed that Albus would let her. Gryffindors—Albus included—were usually so black and white about the magic in their world. Anything that tended toward the "dark" was immediately labeled as evil.

"You mean to tell me that you want her delving into black magic?!" Minerva looked horrified by the very idea.

"She will not be performing dark rituals, Minny, but she might have to branch out for her research. It is as you said before, Miss Granger is an adult, fully capable of handling herself," Albus assured her.

"Dealing with dark magic is an entirely different thing from being left in a dusty old castle, Albus."

Filius placed a calming hand on her arm. "Now, now, Minerva. If Miss Granger can take care of herself in a Soul Book for two years, then she'll be able to do this."

Severus snorted. "That was more luck than any skill on her part."

"I beg your pardon!" Minerva immediately bristled, despite her earlier reservation. It was apparently fine for HER to think of Granger as a hopeless lamb, but nobody else could.

"That's enough," Albus interjected before the two Heads of Houses could get their wands out. "The decision has already been made, and I've already talked to Miss Granger about it. Minerva, if you feel so uncomfortable with this, then we can have her use Filius' Floo instead."

Minerva sighed in defeat. "No, no, it's fine. My office is closer to her, and it would be more believable if she were seen coming and going from there than from Filius' office. There are only so many times we can use her apprenticeship as an excuse."

"Good!" Albus said, with a little too much cheer. "Now that that is settled, I wanted to—"

_—_A sharp pain in Severus' left arm lashed at his skin. Gripping his arm, he abruptly stood from his chair. "Albus," he said to the man curtly, nodding his head towards the door.

The Headmaster's eyes immediately lit with understanding. "Very well," he replied, deadly serious now, "Do you remember the plan?"

"Of course."

"Then, be safe, my boy."

Without another word, Severus swept out of the office and down to his quarters so he could get his mask and cloak.

* * *

When Severus finally arrived at Lestrange Manor, he was escorted to the dining hall instead of the ballroom, where the other members of the Inner circle were already seated. Thankfully, the Dark Lord seemed too preoccupied with the writhing man on top of the dining table to pay attention to his entrance.

Removing his mask and pulling down his hood, Severus took the empty chair beside Malfoy.

"Severus, I'm glad you could make it before the festivities were over," Lucius whispered to him in amusement. His low tones were easily covered by the agonizing screams coming from the man in front of them.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. And who would be our guest tonight?"

"Jason Mimbler from Magical Defense. Our Lord wasn't pleased with Rabastan's progress in getting the girl."

"And Rabastan?" Severus noted that the Death Eater in question was still sitting among them, beside his brother, completely fine, if a bit winded.

"He pointed the finger at Mimbler for not complying with his wishes to use the Auror department, of course. He was punished first, but not as severely."

"Hm. Clever man."

"Do I detect a hint of disappointment, dear Severus?" Lucius continued looking forward, but his mouth quirked up in an amused smirk.

Severus affected a put-upon sigh. "Just an involuntary reaction to being surrounded by disappointing peers, who unfortunately know how to clean up their messes too well."

Lucius let out the smallest of laughs. "Too true, but then again we have all been in that hot cauldron. No doubt, by the end of the night you will have to do your own cleaning, **_Severus_**," he said, raising his voice on Severus' name so that the Dark Lord could hear him.

The pale wizard's gaze snapped up from his victim, finally pulling his wand away from Mimbler in his distraction. His red eyes narrowed, noticing the newest addition to the table. "Ssseverusss…jussst the wizard I wassss looking for."

Snape threw a quick glare at a maliciously grinning Lucius, before addressing the Dark Lord. "My Lord," he murmured, bowing his head respectfully.

"I was notified that the Mudblood hasss returned to the ssschool. Why did I not hear anything from you?" Voldemort hissed.

Hiding behind a false façade of calm, his voice came out steady as he asked with the just the merest hint of confusion, "My Lord, did you not receive the message I sent to you through Pettigrew?"

"A message?" the Dark Lord asked.

"Yes, my Lord" Severus continued, letting the barest amount of fear shine through. "Dumbledore has been watching me closely since the Mudblood's return. I couldn't come to you in person, so I sent a message through Pettigrew to inform you that I had information."

It wasn't a lie. He **had** sent Pettigrew a letter about Granger's return. Both Albus and he had felt that it would be too detrimental to his position to hide the witch's presence in the school from Voldemort. At the end of the day, he still needed to be seen as valuable to the psychopath. Unfortunately, the sensitive nature of Granger's new task also meant that she had to remain under the Dark Lord's radar. So Severus was stuck straddling a fine line between exposing Granger and hiding her away. An almost impossible task to take on, had Snape not known what a predictable rodent Pettigrew would be.

Although he was far from brave, the wayward Gryffindor was still just as brash as the rest of his house and Snape knew that anything he sent to the sniveling coward would never make it to the Dark Lord.

Severus was his old school rival and someone who openly mocked and cursed him in front of the other Death Eaters. He had known that Pettigrew would jump at the first opportunity to take revenge. He would see the letter and immediately destroy it in some misguided attempt to make the Potions master look incompetent.

From the terrified look on Pettigrew's face, it would seem that that was exactly what the pathetic wizard had done—so predictable.

Snape almost felt sorry for setting the other man up, but then he remembered that Pettigrew was a sorry excuse of a man, and he quickly got over that small bout of pity.

"Does Severusssss speak the truth, Peter? Have you audacsssiouly dessstroyed **my** mail?" the Dark Lord asked in a deadly whisper, then before Pettigrew could answer, he screamed, "LEGILIMENS!"

A high-pitched scream fell from Pettigrew's lips as the Dark Lord bulldozed his way into his servant's mind. Severus suspected from the way Pettigrew was thrashing in his seat that Voldemort was being especially harsh in his inspection. In a matter of mere seconds the Dark Lord was out of Pettigrew's mind and said wizard was a gibbering mess lying on the floor.

Displeased with what he had seen, the Dark Lord threw a Burning Hex at him as well. When he was finally done with dealing with the riff-raff, he turned to his spy.

"Severussssss…" he began and it was the only warning he gave before he was pushing into Snape's mind as well.

Unlike Pettigrew, Snape knew better than to put up any mental resistance and immediately allowed his shields to drop, so the Dark Lord's entrance only caused a minor sting.

He pushed several mental images to the front of his mind, primarily of him writing out the letter to Pettigrew about Granger's return, and meetings that he had staged with Albus, where they discussed the girl's desire to graduate early. He also threw in a couple more mundane scenes of him berating a student, of him drinking in his rooms and of him watching Granger suspiciously, to make his thoughts appear more random and less practiced. The important information about the Soul Book and Granger's connection to it was safely tucked away in the deepest recesses of his mind.

The strain of keeping his secrets tightly guarded while also keeping up a constant stream of non-lethal memories for the Dark Lord to peruse was beginning to wear on Severus' mind. The pressure was building up. A sweat broke out on his face, his breaths came out in strangled gasps, his vision became cloudy and he fought a desperate need to empty the contents of his stomach onto the table in front of him.

Severus was nearly about to pass out, when the Dark Lord finally slipped from his mind. He greedily sucked in a lungful of air.

"So the Mudblood is trying to graduate early…" The Dark Lord leaned back in his chair. "Is she working on something for Dumbledore?"

"I do not believe so, my Lord. From what I gathered, she wanted to get her Charms mastery early so she could help Potter or some nauseating dribble like that."

"Yes, but with what?" Abruptly the Dark Lord stood, pushing his chair back roughly. "Bellatrix!"

"Yes, my Lord." Said witch looked up to her master with hopeful eyes.

"Get this worthlesssss rat out of my ssssight!" He sneered down at the drooling mess at his feet, sending a vicious kick to Pettigrew's side. "No need to be gentle. Perhapssss with a proper punishment he'll learn not to dessstroy thingssss that don't belong to him."

"With pleasure, my Lord!" Bella waved her wand over Pettigrew's body, and thick ropes appeared, tightly binding his limbs together. "Getty!" she screamed when she was done.

The small House Elf popped into the room, trembling before her mistress. "Yes, mistress? What cans Getty be doing for you?"

Bella pointed to Pettigrew imperiously. "Take this vermin down to the dungeons. The Dark Lord wishes to speak to him privately."

When the wizard was finally dealt with, the Dark Lord turned back to Rabastan, shoving his wand against his throat.

"As for you, Lessstrange, I am giving you one more chance," he hissed, leaning forward menacingly. "I want the Mudblood. Do whatever you need to do to get her, but do **not** fail me again."

Rabastan nodded, too terrified to say anything else. Turning to the rest of his inner circle, the Dark Lord snarled out, "Leave!" before storming out of the room.

Severus winced, his migraine throbbing painfully when the door slammed behind their furious leader, only to open and slam closed again when Bella rushed after him like a lost puppy.

"Well, that was certainly an eventful evening," Lucius drawled, picking at his nails.

Severus, who was still a bit woozy from having someone punch their way into his mind, only grunted in response. Slowly, he stood from his seat to head to the door himself. After surviving two terrible meetings (one admittedly more painful than the other) all in one morning, all he wanted to do was fall into his bed and hide away from the world for a day or two. Or at least until his head stopped pounding.

A silver cane landed on his shoulder halting him. "Severus. Heading off so soon?" Lucius inquired.

"As it is a school day and I still have brats to teach, yes, I suppose I am," he snapped back.

Lucius brushed off his brusque tone easily. "Very well. Give Draco my best, will you?"

Snape sneered at his old friend. "I suspect you don't need me to keep you in contact with your boy. He was the one who informed our Lord about the Mudblood, was he not?"

"My, my, Severus. No need for hostilities. A little bit of healthy competition surely never hurt anyone before. Besides, you were well able to handle yourself today against Pettigrew."

Severus snorted. "Pettigrew is a half-witted worm that believes himself to be clever. He did most of my work for me."

Lucius threw back his head, and laughed. "Yes. A rat living in a pit of vipers. His life expectancy was never long to begin with."

"Exactly. I was just pushing him along. Now," Severus said, gathering his cloak around him, "I must be off. Until next time, Lucius."

"Of course, my _friend_," Lucius purred, his eyes glinting.

Severus watched him only for a second more, before sweeping out of the room. He had neither the time nor the patience to play any of Malfoy's games today.

* * *

Narcissa was sitting in front of her vanity, one of her small spider earrings rolling in between her fingers. The tiny, but beautifully carved, silver insects, with their glimmering black diamonds, were her most treasured items. She had more extravagant pieces that were ten times more expensive and even more eye-catching to be sure, but these little earrings held a special place in her heart.

Lucius had given them to her in her fifth year. A gift for their very first date. She could still remember his arrogant smile, when he presented the jewelry to her the day of the Halloween dance.

_She had been working on her Charms homework, outside by the Black Lake, when a rose suddenly appeared in front of her. She didn't need to look up to see who was holding the rose. Only one man had been persistently dogging her steps for the past week. Her heart traitorously skipped a beat. _

_ "Lucius, to what do I owe this honor?" _

_ "It's a beautiful day, Miss Black. It would be a terrible waste to spend it indoors, so I decided to take a little stroll," he explained, elegantly kneeling down to take the seat next to her. _

_ They were so close that she could feel his body heat against her side. She was tempted to scoot over a bit to create some much needed space, but she knew that doing so would only make her appear nervous and she refused to allow herself to appear weak in front of him. _

_ Instead, she subtly cast a Shocking Charm on her robes that would give the presumptuous prat a nice present if he tried anything else. _

_ "And you just so happened to choose the Lake of all places? Exactly where I'm sitting?"_

_"What can I say? I'm drawn to beauty," the blonde Slytherin purred in her ear. _

_ "Is that the excuse you give when you pull out a mirror every five seconds?" she quipped back effortlessly, her quill still scratching out notes. _

_ Lucius smiled at her slyly. "Did you just call me beautiful, Miss Black? I'm flattered."_

_ She blushed deeply, mentally cursing her slip of the tongue. Not that she would try to deny it. Then she'd look like a fool. Anyone with eyes could see that Lucius was a fine male specimen._

_With his long, silky blonde hair that seemed to capture and absorb the light around him, inviting you to play with the smooth strands that rolled down his back in a neat queue. His eyes were a like grey jewels, they were so clear and bright, his jaw was strong, his nose straight and his cheekbones high. His features could nearly be considered feminine if there wasn't also this visceral sense of masculinity that oozed from his pores. _

_No Lucius Malfoy was gorgeous and all the more deadly because he knew it. _

_"I'm not blind, Lucius. I just don't see why you should think your appearance would mean much to me." She set her book down to look him in the eye. "A dragon is a beautiful creature to watch from the skies, but never a good guest to have at dinner," she said, quoting one of her mother's favorite sayings. _

_Far from being offended, Lucius was utterly amused. His laughter caressed her ears and she couldn't control the shiver of pleasure that traveled down her spine. _

_"First I am beautiful and then you compare me to a mighty dragon…and you wonder why I seek you out," he teasingly whispered. His hot breath tickled her ear seductively._

_'Too close!' her brain warned her, just before her Shocking Charm went off. _

_With a suppressed yelp, Lucius jumped back. His look of anger was quickly replaced by one of confusion, then mischievous appreciation. "Clever, clever, you."_

_She stared at him, unable to entirely hide her uneasiness. She had expected him to do some form of retaliation for hexing him, but instead he was looking at her with what looked suspiciously like admiration. Her heart twisted in her chest, as she peered into those clear grey eyes. Gods, they were gorgeous…_

_"Why are you here, Lucius?"_

_"Isn't it obvious? The Halloween ball is tonight."_

_Her pulse sped up in anticipation. "Why should that bring you out to the lake?"_

_"Not to the lake—to you."_

_"Oh?" she squeaked out, before clearing her throat and straightening her face. She picked up her quill and notebook just so she wouldn't do anything rash, like grab his face and kiss him. "And why would you want to see me?"_

_"To ask you to the dance, of course." He picked up a lock of her icy blonde hair, jumping a little from the Shock Charm again. _

_"Why do you keep touching me, if you know that you will only get hurt?"_

_"Because, my dear," he purred, moving closer to her, "the pain is completely worth it if I can hold even a piece of you."_

_'Oh he's good,' she thought, closing her eyes and just allowing herself to savor the moment. She would hex him again later to make her point, but for now, she just soaked the moment in. _

_With her eyes closed, she hadn't noticed him picking up his wand and silently casting a Finite Incantatem over her body, dispelling her protection. It wasn't until he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her back against his body that she finally came back to reality. But she kept her head, not putting up a fight to his forwardness...**yet**._

_"How presumptuous of you, Lord Malfoy," she whispered, fingering her wand in her pocket. There was only the barest of threats in her tone. She probably would have been angrier if it hadn't felt so heavenly being wrapped up in the arrogant sod's arms. _

_"I do apologize, Miss Black, but I can't seem to help myself around you," he replied, taking a lock of her hair again and wrapping it around his finger. "By the way, you have not given me my "yes", yet."_

_She decided that would say yes. She couldn't deny the attraction she felt for this cunning Slytherin, and she was intrigued by the idea of where this could go, but she wasn't going to make it easy for him. She was a Black, after all, and she deserved to be properly wooed and flattered before she gave her assent. "And why would the heir of Malfoy house want to go to the dance with me?"_

_Lucius huffed in amusement. "My dear, it is as you said. I'm the heir of the **Malfoy **house, the King of Slytherin, and as such, I deserve the best—and that's you," he said, rather arrogantly. "I can be seen with no less."_

_"Oh? Then I'm to be a pretty bauble?"_

_Again he smirked. "I believe I said, **the best**, Miss Black. Your looks only encompass a small portion of that."_

_"Oh?"_

_"Do not misunderstand me. You are a rose among weeds, by far the most beautiful creature in the school, aside from myself. That much is a given, but you also have an incredibly sharp mind, with an even sharper tongue. Even Though you are only a fifth year, you have my fellow seventh years coming to you for help with their work. You have the respect of all of Slytherin house. You have grace, charm and a musical laugh that would make a Nymph jealous. And you come from a family that is as ancient and pure as my own. You, my dear, are perfection, the Queen to my King, and I must have you."_

_She turned around in his arms, unable to stop herself any longer. She leaned in closer to him. "And if I refuse?" She wouldn't refuse him. Not now, not after what he had said to her. How could she?_

_He leaned in as well, his hands burying themselves in her hair. "You won't."_

_"You think you know me so well?"_

_"No, not yet. Bust just as you are the best, so am I. We would be settling for lesser beings if we chose anyone else." He reached into his robes to pull out a small black, velvet box. _

_She looked at him curiously. "What is this?"_

_He opened the box, revealing a beautiful pair of silver spider earrings with black diamonds in the center. She gasped, fingering the dark gems appreciatively. _

_"I will be wearing black and silver tonight, and thought it would be best if we were matching. We'll be a stunning pair."_

_"I still have not agreed to go on this date with you," she answered. _

_He chuckled, bending lower so that their lips were only a hair's length apart. "My dear, did you think that I was talking about only tonight? You misunderstand me."_

_He brushed his lips against hers in the softest of caresses. "I am a Malfoy, Narcissa. We play for keeps."_

Even after all these years, that memory still warmed Narcissa's heart. Reverently, she put the earrings on, admiring the way they glinted undertake glow of her candlelight.

Lucius had been right. They had made a stunning pair that Halloween night. They had danced and moved together as if they were made for one another. They were perfect for each other, and they continued in their perfection long after they had both graduated, and gotten married. She took pride in the envious stares from both men and women as they walked into a room together. She reveled in it...in her life and in her happiness.

But then the Dark Lord came and it all changed. There were afraid for their future so they gave him money, helped to raise him up, not even realizing that they were destroying themselves in the process. There had been an unspoken relief between them when he had first died over a decade ago, a hope that they could go back to the paradise that they had created for themselves, but it hadn't lasted.

Now the Dark Lord was back again, and Narcissa had her eyes open this time. She could see her home, her family, deteriorating before her very eyes. Her husband, her Lucius...she couldn't pretend to be ignorant of the dark path that he was walking.

Every day under the Dark Lord's services, she saw more and more of that charming, arrogant boy that had asked her to the Halloween Ball slip away. He was becoming a stranger, a malicious, cruel stranger that happened to wear her husband's face, and she feared that there was no way to save him.

Was he past the point of no return?

She clenched at the silver spiders on her ears. Gods, she hoped not, but she couldn't ignore the evidence around her that suggested her Lucius was gone and that her beautiful baby boy was slowly heading towards the same fate.

She grabbed a picture from her vanity, a tear falling down her stoic face. In it, Lucius stood proudly with his arms clasped behind his back and his head lifted high. A five-year-old Draco was standing beside him, valiantly trying to mimic his father's pose, shooting looks to the other man to make sure that he was getting it right. The older Slytherin must have been aware of this, because he sneaked a look at his son. His gaze softened just a fraction, obviously pleased by his son's adoration.

Carefully, she put the picture frame back down. The Dark Lord would not be able to understand why she would chose her family over his reign, but these two men, her boys, they were her everything. She had worked hard to build the life she had, to build the family that she had and she was **not** going to let the Dark Lord take that away from her.

Reaching into her vanity drawer, she pulled out a plain-looking envelope.

"Mitty," she called out, and a second later her House Elf popped into her room, bowing low.

"What can Mitty be doing for the Mistress?"

Narcissa handed the Elf the envelope. "Make sure this letter gets to Severus Snape. Do not use any of our owls. I want no one knowing that this letter is coming from the Malfoy manor, so rent an owl or something like that. I don't care how you do it, just make sure you're discreet. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Mistress!" Mitty chirped, bowing again before she popped out.

When the elf was gone, Narcissa swept out the door to leave as well. She had no time for tears or regrets. There was a lot of ground that she needed to cover if her plan was going to work perfectly.

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**Okay! There we are! Severus is having a bad day, Voldemort is pissed off and Narcissa plots. Hoped you liked it, especially my portrayal of Lucius/Narcissa—because there will definitely be more of them later on down the road. **

**Next chapter: More Severus and Hermione! Woooo**

**As always, please review~**


	21. No Privacy and Vexing Men

**(Disclaimer: at the beginning) **

**Thanks for the support guys! Your reviews are amazing :D**

**As always much love to my betas McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe!**

**And happy holidays. You can consider this my Christmas present to you guys!**

**Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Last Time:**

**When the elf was gone, Narcissa swept out the door to leave as well. She had no time for tears or regrets. There was a lot of ground that she needed to cover if her plan was going to work perfectly.**

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Chapter 20

Hermione was agitated. No—strike that, she was gradually on her way to becoming extremely annoyed. It seemed like everyone in the castle had gathered together and collectively decided that they were going to be as obnoxiously loud and energetic as possible this morning.

_ Prats_, she thought grumpily, tearing her toast viciously apart. SHE had barely gotten five hours last night, and was utterly exhausted. Blindsided by her joy and gratitude of being back, she hadn't thought about how returning to Hogwarts meant that she would also be returning to her school schedule.

Her first morning back had proven to be disastrous. She had accidently slept in (she was still peeved that Lavender and Parvati had left without trying to wake her), though eight thirty in the morning could hardly be considered _late. _But apparently it was late enough that she only had half an hour to get to her first class. She had been in such a rush that she only had time to do some Refreshing Charms and throw on her clothes before she ran out the door, frazzled beyond belief.

The day hadn't gotten much better for her after that. To her dismay, within minutes of the lesson she discovered something horrific. The class was BORING! The material was something she could recite in her sleep if she wanted. Not an entirely new concept for her. She had always read ahead in her courses, but usually when she got into the class the professors could provide extra knowledge that she couldn't glean from her books. It was a worthwhile experience, all in all.

Unfortunately, it wasn't an experience that she had repeated as she tried to concentrate on what Professor Flitwick had been saying. She had learned nothing new from his lecture and found her mind drifting to the advanced arithmancy equations she had been working on the night before.

The hands-on portion of class had been just as frightfully elementary. From the sympathetic smile Flitwick had given her, she knew she hadn't hidden her frustrations very well.

The noise in the Great Hall rose, jolting her from her woolgathering. She looked up from her plate as the late morning crowd of students filed into the hall for breakfast. A new wave of energy seemed to zap through the ones already eating and everyone took the new arrival of students as permission to start shouting over their food.

"Oh, Hell," she muttered under her breath, dropping her head down in defeat. Already, she could feel a headache stirring to life.

A large influx of Gryffindors crowded onto their table, causing everyone to shift down and squeeze together to make room, and Hermione found herself stuffed between Harry and Ron.

_Oh, for goodness sake! _Hermione tried to wiggle around and create more space, but there was no more to be had. She gave up with an audible huff, sighing when it looked like no one seemed to notice her irritation.

As this was a regular occurrence for them, the boys couldn't have cared less that they were now bumping elbows with their neighbors. Ron certainly didn't seem to mind since he hadn't even paused in eating his bacon while he was scooting.

When a bit of the chewed pork fell from Ron's lips and landed precariously close to her elbow, she had decided that enough was enough. Grabbing her bag, she stood and tried to shuffle her way off the bench.

"Hermione, where are you going?" Harry said, grabbing onto her sleeve.

There was a hint of panic in his eyes that Hermione had seen on more than one occasion, usually when the two friends had to part company. She knew Harry was still worried that she would disappear in a cloud of smoke when he wasn't looking.

She couldn't blame him. That same fear would probably hang over her thoughts as well if their positions were reversed. It was because of that that she tried not to snap at him when he took to hovering over her like a worried hen.

"Well, I'm finished eating," she replied, gently. Harry looked at her plate of crumbled-up toast skeptically.

"Aren't you hungry?" Ron asked, eyeing her plate as well.

"I had some fruit, too. Besides, you know I don't like eating a lot in the morning." Her eyes flickered towards the head table, zeroing in on an empty chair. She looked back to the boys. "And I wanted to talk to Professor Flitwick before classes started."

She only felt slightly guilty for the lie.

"Are you su—"

The sound of metal cutlery against porcelain cut Harry off. Behind them a second year Hufflepuff was messing around with his friend, chasing after him with a plate and fork. All around them, groups of students winced at the grating noise until a fifth year, Francis Hucklbee, finally caught both of the boys by the neck and gave them a quick shake. The younger Hufflepuffs squeaked in indignation, yelling for Francis to let go.

It was free entertainment for most of the Hall, who watched the spectacle with amusement, but for Hermione it was just another reason to get out of there before she started hexing innocent people.

Really, how was screeching porcelain fun?

"I'll see you guys in Transfiguration," she called out. She adjusted her bag and shouldered through the crowds of students lazing about in the aisles before Harry or Ron could reply.

The noise began to dim the further away from the Hall she got, disappearing entirely as she turned the corner towards another hallway, but she didn't stop there. Making a quick decision, she took a couple of flights of stairs down into the Dungeons. A quick peek up and down the corridor confirmed that no one was around, so she ducked into a compact alcove, disillusioning and putting up privacy wards around herself.

_Finally, some peace and quiet…_

Funny how she had to resort to stowing away, smack dab in the middle of Snake territory, in order to get a moment of solitude nowadays. She would laugh if she didn't also want to scream in frustration. She moved to the back wall and sunk to the floor, her bag slipping from her shoulder to fall beside her.

"I should come here more often," she muttered.

Her knees drew up and her head fell back. She had about forty minutes before she had to go to Transfiguration. Not too bad. She figured she could get about thirty minutes to herself before she had to run to the other side of the castle.

"Would you stop yanking me around!" a voice whispered harshly. Two blonde girls, dressed in Slytherin robes, shoved their way into the alcove.

_Damn, can't even be alone for two seconds anymore!_

Thanks to the Disillusionment Charm around her, neither girl had noticed her yet. Hermione clutched her legs closer to her chest, holding her breath and willing them to just go away.

"You can't be seriously thinking about agreeing to this shit!" the smaller girl snarled.

"Would you keep it down!" The older girl pulled her arm away. She took out her wand and encased the alcove in a thick Silencing Bubble. Hermione thought she recognized her. Leah Strumbard, a seventh year Slytherin, if she wasn't mistaken. "What's wrong with you? Anyone could have heard you. God, what are you, a Gryffindor?" Leah continued.

"Don't give me that shit right now, Leah. I'm being serious!"

"Yeah, I got that, thanks," Leah said sarcastically. "I understand that you might be a little upset—"

"Upset! You think I'm just upset? Leah, you could die. No, you WILL die if you go through with this!"

Hermione gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth to muffle the sound. Thankfully, the other girls hadn't heard her, too busy wrapped up in their conversation.

Leah put her hands on the younger girl's shoulders. She smiled at her gently. "You don't know that, Mimi."

Mimi roughly shrugged the other girl's hands away, tears formed in her eyes. "I do know that! This is Yaxley we're talking about, Le-Le. He's one of the Azkaban nut-jobs for Merlin's sake! You've heard the rumors about him."

"We don't—"

"He'll eat you up and shit you out! And you know it. Morgana's tits! What were you and dad thinking, agreeing to this?"

_Dad? _So they were sisters? Hermione looked between the two, only just now noticing the similarities. _But what are they talking about Yaxley for? Are they Death Eater sympathizers? _A shudder ran up her spine.

The younger girl's words seemed to infuriate her older sister, who practically growled at the sharp question. "Agree?" Leah shrieked, making the other flinch. "What choice do you think we fucking have, Mimi? Yaxley is a part of the inner circle, or have you forgotten that little tidbit of information already?"

"Yeah, but—"

"No! You need to get this through your thick skull before you do something to get the whole family killed." Leah poked her sister in the chest. "Yaxley has the Dark Lord's favor, he's from a prominent Pureblood family, and has galleons coming out of his ears. If he wants something, the Dark Lord isn't going to give two shits if he tries to get it. Especially if its nothing more than a little Half-Blood chit."

"But Dad is—"

"Dad is a lower level Ministry Bureaucrat whom the Dark Lord had to threaten in order to get his cooperation. He's a Half-Blood and he doesn't have enough money to tempt Yaxley's attention away from us."

Leah huffed. "Just how did you expect him to be able to say no without those two maniacs blowing our whole family up in retaliation? Mom, Jamie, Lisa. Do you want them to die?"

"I —I…But he'll kill you Le-Le…"

"Oh, you idiot…"

She gathered the small girl in her arms, resting her cheek against her hair. The two rocked together in a calming motion. "This is the only way, Mimi. We can't just outright say no."

The younger blonde froze in her sister's arms, and pulled slightly back. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What do you mean, you can't give an outright no?"

A smug smile spread across her sister's face. "I'm a Slytherin Mimi, not a bleeding heart Gryffindor ready to martyr herself for the world. I won't put the family in danger, but I'm not slaving over my NEWTs just so I can be some sadistic bastard's whore."

"So you…"

"I've talked to Dad about our other options. There have been a couple of rumors going around…"

Mimi sucked in a breath. "Rumors?"

"Of a way out for the Slytherins. Safe houses for us to go to until all this shit blows over."

"Wait, are you talking about Dr—"

"Shh!" Leah's hand shot out to cover the other Slytherin's mouth. "Don't say their names out loud…even with Silencing Charms up, it's not safe to be shooting names out all willy-nilly. Great Circe! You're such a first year."

The hand was shoved away. "Alright, alright. I get it, but do you really think it'll work? What if the Dark Lord finds us?"

"Trust me, it'll work. These guys are brilliant, besides, you know they have enough connections to get it done. So no more crying, yeah? You can't have other people seeing you being weak like this. You'll get eaten alive."

The small girl was pulled into another hug and Hermione thought she heard something like "sorry" come from her lips, but the sound was muffled by her sister's robes.

After a moment, they separated. "Alright, enough of this mushy shit. Clean yourself up and get to class," Leah commanded, nudging the other blonde out of the small space.

It wasn't until Hermione was sure that they had left that she let out her breath. Her legs collapsed in front of her as she stared at the dark walls. Guilt for having listened in on a private conversation and shock at what they had said warred inside her mind.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what the two girls had been talking about.

_"I'm not slaving over my NEWTs just so I can be some sadistic bastard's whore."_

A nauseous feeling clenched at her stomach as she ran those words through her brain. She may not have been on speaking terms with the Slytherins but she wouldn't wish that kind of life on even her worst enemy. Especially if Yaxley was anything like Dolohov. She still trembled whenever she thought about the look on his face when he had loomed over her. The demented flash in his eye and the twisted smile as he had knelt in front of her wounded body, cooing soft, menacing words to her.

_"It's such a shame, little mudblood. You would have made me a wonderful pet…"_

There had been a promise in his eyes as he had said those words and as she lay bleeding out on the Ministry floor she had actually been relieved that she would die. She shivered, closing her eyes against the memories.

Pity soon followed after, because if she was this shaken up by some words and a flash of fear then what would it be like for Leah? Threats were nothing compared to what the Slytherin girl would have to go through, and that knowledge made Hermione sick to her stomach.

How many other Slytherin girls were in her position? How many boys? For that matter, how many of them actually wanted nothing to do with Voldemort? From what the sisters had said, it looked as if they were only "loyal" because their family could be killed otherwise.

It was a horrible position to be in, to choose between helping a mad man destroy the world or watching your family die. Looking at it from that point of view, she couldn't blame them for not fighting back.

What if it had been her parents that Voldemort used as collateral? Sure she might try to free them some other way first, but if she had absolutely no other option and had to choose…as much of a Gryffindor as she was, she doubted that she could just give her family up for the greater good.

Thankfully, her parents were hidden someplace safe, so she didn't have to worry about that, but the Slytherins weren't given the same help, were they? Everyone just lumped them all into one group of future Death Eaters, but that wasn't fair. She had just been given evidence, straight from two Slytherins' mouths to support the idea that they WEREN'T all the same.

If she needed any further evidence she could always look at the other Slytherins she knew, like Fera, who had put herself in danger to protect Muggles and Muggleborns. There was also Professor Snape, who she would argue was one of the bravest men she knew, risking his life to spy for the Order like he did. Even with his nasty temper, she had no doubts that he was a good man. So really, she shouldn't be all that shocked that there were other Slytherins out there who were good people as well.

When she got right down to it, she was a little appalled that she had allowed House prejudices to color her view of her classmates for so long. Why should the fact that they wore green on their robes automatically make them bad people? That was like saying all Gryffindors were good people, and that wasn't true. Just look at Peter Pettigrew. He was a slimy, pathetic git of a man and he claimed to be a lion.

Even if some Slytherins came from families that did support Voldemort and his agenda, that didn't mean that they supported him too. They were their own people, weren't they? So why should they be held in contempt because of their parents' actions?

The more Hermione thought about these new revelations, the more indignant she became on behalf of all of Slytherin house. It was totally unfair what was happening to Slytherin. It was sickening to think that they were all just left to fend for themselves, just because of the house they were in. They were just children!

No matter how insanely busy she was, now that she was aware of what was going on, she just couldn't idly sit by and do nothing to help.

She would have to do a bit of reconnaissance on the situation first. She wasn't naïve enough to believe that the whole house was innocent or that Voldemort's supporters only began and ended in the Snake pit. She knew that there were probably others in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and, yes, even Gryffindor, so she had to find out which needed help and which were her true enemies.

One other bit of information had stuck out as well, and she planned to look into it too. If what the girls were talking about was true, then someone inside of Slytherin was already trying to help their peers. Or maybe it was a group of people. Leah had said _"their names"_, which meant more than one, or maybe she was just trying to stay gender neutral to hide the person's identity.

Either way, no matter who, or whom they were, Hermione needed to track them down. If they didn't want Voldemort's scaly claws to get into the Slytherins then maybe they were potential allies. It was definitely worth looking into at any rate.

She was just getting up from the floor and dusting herself off and feeling rather good about her decision, when a shadow fell over her, freezing her in place.

Someone had gotten through her wards.

As quickly as she could, she pulled out her wand, ready to fire a hex when a smooth voice stopped her.

"I would not try that, Miss Granger. I've had a poor morning and my head is pounding…Do not tempt me into 'defending myself'." Though it was a threat, it was spoken in such a lazy drawl that Hermione found herself unconsciously relaxing.

She turned around to find the surly Potions Master leaning against the wall. Light from the hallway filtered behind him, shadowing his features. She imagined that it wasn't a smile that the darkness was hiding.

"Good morning, Professor."

He took another step into the alcove, crossing the border of her privacy wards effortlessly, and she wondered how he had managed such a feat. She was no slouch in her spell work and was confident in her ward lines.

"And what would a lone Gryffindor be doing wandering by the Slytherin dormitories?"

Her mind went straight to the conversation she had just accidently overheard. There was a brush of magic against her Occlumency shields, and she immediately tightened them down so her inquisitive professor couldn't get inside. When she glared at him in response, he didn't look even a bit repentant, but the feeling of something touching her mind at least went away.

"Well, Miss Granger?" he said aloud.

"Well, what?" Her voice came out with a little more bite than she had been shooting for and she flinched under his hardened stare.

"I mean, is there something I can do for you, professor?" she amended, before he could make good on his threat to hex her.

"I would think that someone with such reputable intelligence would be able to answer a simple question, Granger." He stepped a little closer, straightening his shoulders so he could properly loom over her. "What. Are. You. Doing. Here?"

Her hand shot out behind her to press against the wall. She could make out just a small sliver of space between her professor and the exit, but the chances of being able to dash by him were slim to none. It was just as she expected. She was trapped. _Damn_.

Snape, knowing exactly why she had looked to the side, smiled down at her like a cat cornering an injured bird. It was nearly as smug as the smile she had sent him her first day back in the castle after her little performance. She wondered if she had looked as annoyingly self-congratulatory as he did now. If she had then it was amazing she hadn't been cursed in retaliation, because really, that kind of smile was just begging to be hexed off.

"Miss Granger!" his voice snapped out in a low hiss, "I'm waiting…"

"I was hiding!" she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. It just so happened it was also the truth.

"Hiding?" Snape blinked, leaning back a little. Obviously that wasn't the answer he had been expecting.

"Yes, I was hiding," she replied, unapologetic. "The Great Hall was like a farm house! I had to get away, catch my breath."

"So you came to the dungeons." His tone was equal parts sarcasm and disbelief.

"Well, Harry and Ron would never think to find me here," she muttered.

"Indeed? Hiding from your friends, how very Gryffindor of you," Snape commented mockingly, though there was a questioning tilt to the end, as if he was curious as to why she would be hiding, but couldn't bring himself to actively engage her in a conversation non-school-related.

Perhaps that was why she found herself suddenly spouting out, "Harry tried to follow me to the loo," by way of explanation.

"Pardon?"

Her cheeks heated furiously, but she plowed on hoping not to make an even bigger idiot of herself. "The boys have been worried about me since I got back. Well, no, Ron's backed off, it's mostly just Harry that's been hounding my every step lately. Yesterday, he was following me so closely that he nearly went into the bathroom with me before he realized what he was doing…I think that he's afraid I'll disappear on him again."

She peeked up at Snape. It wasn't a secret that Harry wasn't his favorite subject, but it looked like he wasn't leaving yet, as unbelievable as that seemed. She chose not to question this incredibly bizarre moment, fearing that if she did the little bubble of suspended reality would pop and they'd plummet back down to Earth.

In all honesty, she was glad that she finally had someone to talk to about all this, even if it was the surprising figure of her Potions Professor. So she continued, pouring out the frustrations that had been bubbling up in her for days.

"And I'm absolutely bored to tears in my classes! Me—BORED—in class! Who had ever heard a thing like that? I'm Hermione Granger, I don't get bored with academics!"

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Except for your class, sir. It's just that my **other** classes seem to be a bit redundant at the moment." She chuckled weakly, then quickly changed the subject.

"On top of that, there are just so many people! It's like everywhere I go there are students or teachers or ghosts shouting, because apparently no one believes in calm, quiet conversations around here."

"Hmm."

"And I have no space! I have to wait an hour just to use the bathroom in the morning, I have to share a room with two tittering girls who don't comprehend what boundaries are and there are so many rules! I have to eat at certain times, sleep, study only what and when I'm supposed to. It's maddening! It's like everyone thinks I'm a child—I'm a grown woman!"

The Potions Master stiffened and…was that a blush? "Would you prefer to be back in the book?" he snapped.

"No!" Her eyes widened. She supposed she was whining a bit and she did sound a tad ungrateful. That wouldn't do. The last thing she wanted was to offend the man who had tirelessly rescued her. "I am grateful! I really am! I didn't mean it to sound that way," she assured him.

Marginally placated, Snape nodded.

Hermione slumped back on the wall. "I'm glad that Harry missed me, that I'm in the castle again. I'm even happy to be around people again…I guess it's just been a little hard adjusting to everything."

With a sigh, Snape stepped back. "Your life has gone through a large upheaval, Granger. You have to be patient during the transition."

Surprisingly comforting words coming from him. Hermione almost didn't know how to answer him.

"I just was expecting…well, I don't really know what I was expecting."

"That much is obvious."

She huffed, but kept her mouth closed.

The professor smirked at her. "In any case, from your professors' reports you are making amazing progress with your exams. It should only be a matter of time before you'll be free from your _boring _classes."

A deep blush stained her cheeks. "Ah, yes. I meant no disrespect, sir."

He gave her a look that suggested he didn't quite believe her. "Of course not."

The conversation died down and the two of them just stood there in a peculiar state of companionable silence, equally lost in thought. There was no sniping, no threats, no arguments, just comfortable quiet. It was almost…nice.

"Is your head still hurting?" she found herself asking.

Snape looked up slightly startled. "What?"

She bit her lip. "I asked if your head still hurt. You had mentioned it earlier."

His mouth pulled down in a slight frown as he looked at her as if she were a complicated puzzle that he couldn't solve. She glanced away from him in embarrassment, unable to look him in the eye.

"I only ask because I might know how to help. You see, my mom always gave me chamomile tea and broccoli when I had a headache. The CoenzymeQ10 in broccoli is supposed to help blood vessel health, which in turn helps reduce stress-related headaches. She, uh…read it in a book."

Snape let out the smallest of grins. "Like mother, like daughter?"

Hermione ducked her head, observing her shoes intently. "Something like that."

"I'll keep your advice in mind."

Hermione hadn't expected that. She had expected snarling, perhaps a sarcastic comment or two, but not an amiable comment. She couldn't help but smile back at him.

Snape coughed, then straightened away from her. "Yes, well. If you'll excuse me, Granger."

Hermione blinked, then shuffled out the way, picking up her bag that had fallen sometime during their conversation. "Oh, yes, sorry."

The Potions Master nodded, moving towards the hallway. Hermione hurried after him, only just realizing how late it had gotten. She'd never get to her class in two minutes.

Suddenly, Snape stopped at the alcove's entrance, and shot out an arm, blocking her.

Hermione looked at him curiously. "Sir? Is something wrong?"

"As abhorrent as you are finding the fact that you are still a student, you do understand that until you complete all of your exams, the rules that every student must follow still apply to you, correct?" he asked.

"Well, yes. I suppose so," she muttered, grumpily.

"Good, then you will not be surprised when I say—" he paused, pulling out a pocket watch and checking the time—"ten points from Gryffindor for being late to class." He grinned tauntingly, snapping his watch closed.

"You—you!" Hermione sputtered.

"You'd better get to class, Granger. You wouldn't want to lose any more points." With that said, her professor dropped his arm and swept out of the alcove and down the hall.

"That's not fair!" Hermione called after him angrily.

His answering chuckle echoed back to her from down the hall.

"AGH!" She stomped off to her Transfiguration class, muttering curses all the way there.

Later on, after she would have time to calm down, she would come to the stunning realization that that had been the first time she had ever heard the man laugh before.

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**Another chapter down! and some much needed Severus/Hermione time! Yay!**

**As always, please review~**


	22. Tea Trays and Muggle Parks

**(Disclaimer: at beginning)**

**Thanks a lot for the support guys! ^-^ so awesome! I'm currently working on a one-shot with Tonks and Remus. It'll just be a look at their morning together that we got a glimpse of in a previous chapter. Just some cute Remus/Tonks fluff**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.**

**And as always thanks to my betas, Emilia Wolfe and McGonagall's Bola.**

* * *

**Last time:**

**"You'd better get to class, Granger. You wouldn't want to lose anymore points." With that said, her professor dropped his arm and swept out of the alcove and down the hall.**

**"That's not fair!" Hermione called after him angrily.**

**His answering chuckle echoed back to her from down the hall.**

* * *

Chapter 21

The rest of Severus' day ran blessedly smoother than his abysmal morning. He only had to deal with two cauldrons melting and one unfortunate incident in a second year class where Melanie Brisburr, an irritating little Hufflepuff, had nearly killed all her peers by creating a noxious gas. (He was still astounded by the monumental ineptitude of the collective student body some days).

Aside from that, his day was relatively normal, and after reporting back to Albus he was able to put the morning disruption with the Dark Lord behind him. He had even managed to convince his brain to forget the…whatever it was that had happened with Granger in the hallway earlier as well.

In fact, he was so successful in his endeavor to forget the Granger incident that his thoughts hadn't once strayed to the witch for the rest of the day, not even when said female was in his class. His eyes had just glazed over her as if she were another fixture in his class, like the chairs and tables.

He hadn't noticed that she was sneaking glances at her Slytherin classmates at an increasingly alarming rate, or that she seemed to be concentrating more on scribbling in her notebook than actually paying attention to his lecture, or that she sent those large, nosy eyes to him every time he rubbed his temples.

He was happy to say that during the lesson he had also never contemplated what had made him stay in the alcove with her instead of just taking points and walking away, or why he had listened to her rant about being a student again, or why he had prolonged his time there by offering his inadequate advice.

No, Granger and his peculiar behavior were far from his mind when he finally decided to retire for the night. Which was why the sight of the small silver tray of chamomile tea and cooked broccoli on his coffee table had him standing immobile in the doorway of his sitting room.

There were a handful of explanations for the tray's presence in his rooms. The House Elves could have been feeling especially solicitous and were forcing food on him again. Albus could have somehow found out about his talk with Granger and could be poking fun at him, but the most predominant reason, that he just couldn't shake from his mind, was that Granger had sent it.

It was ridiculous. Ludicrous even, to think that one of his students would actually extend herself in such a way. Yet, he couldn't deny that it was the most plausible conclusion.

_Granger sent me tea and broccoli_. What an absurd notion.

Severus took a seat on his couch, carefully lifting a cup of tea and taking a small sniff. His tongue darted out quickly, tasting a small amount of the liquid. He let the hot beverage settle on his tongue thoughtfully for a few seconds, waiting to see if anything happened, but nothing did. He did the same thing to a small bit of broccoli as well, coming to a similar conclusion. The food wasn't poisoned, or even doctored with potions, healing or otherwise. It was just plain old tea and broccoli, brought to him out of…concern?

**_Granger _**_sent me tea..._Snape shifted in his seat, feeling highly uncomfortable and flustered. He glared at the offending food as if it were about to jump up and bite him.

What business was it of hers, how he was feeling? What gave her the right to insert herself in his personal time and play nursemaid? As if he couldn't watch over himself! He was a grown man and had been taking care of himself for nearly all his life. He didn't need some self-righteous Gryffindor poking about in his affairs.

But he still brought the teacup back up to his lips to take another tentative sip. He peered at the small plate of broccoli, deciding that he might as well eat some of that as well, and grumpily munched on one of the green vegetable.

He would have to track the witch down tomorrow and give her a piece of his mind, making sure that she understood that her "concern" was neither wanted nor needed. He speared another broccoli stem with his fork and took another angry bite.

* * *

Even deep in sleep, Severus felt the wards of his room itch in awareness as a new presence appeared in his sitting room. He jolted awake on his couch, and had his wand out not a second later, pointing it at the intruder.

The House Elf in front of him visibly shook. "Mips is sorry to be waking the Potions Master! Oh Mips is so very, very bad!" The Elf twisted her ears sharply, tears already bubbling.

Severus rubbed the sleep from his eyes and put his wand away. He looked around his sitting room, wondering why he had been sleeping on his couch when his very comfortable bed was just in the next room. His eyes landed on the tea tray, his empty tea cup and the half eaten plate of broccoli.

_Right, Granger and her persistent meddling._

The House Elf sniveled a little louder in front of him and he rolled his eyes.

"That'll be enough of that, Mips. I don't need you blubbering all over my couch and stop twisting your ears. It's annoying," he snapped.

Mips immediately stopped, her hands fluttering about her as if she didn't know what to do with them. "Mips is being sorry, Master Snape!"

"Fine, fine." Severus waved his hand impatiently. "What did you wake me for?"

"Post come for you, Master Snape. Mips thinks it were urgent because the owl that brings it kept nipping at Mips' poor hands."

A blank letter with no address on the front was presented to him. Turning the letter over, he saw a red seal with an ornate M and a rose pressed into the wax, and immediately recognized it.

_Narcissa Malfoy...what in Hades' name could you want? _He could only guess as to why she would send him mail at this time of night, but whatever the reason, it couldn't be good.

Severus looked back up to the Elf who was still waiting for orders. "Did you feel any type of magic on the owl that brought this?" he asked the Elf.

"Oh no, Master Snape! Mips took a very hard looks over the bitey bird and its letter before bringing it to Master Snape."

"Very well. You may go." He turned back to the envelope, waiting until the House Elf left for good before cracking the seal open and looking over the contents of the note.

_Serpentine Bridge in Hyde Park at 3_

_ ~NM_

Severus stared at the message even as the ink slowly began to disappear, and the parchment, following suit, turned to grey smoke in his hands.

_How curious, _he thought, _and how very suspicious._

Taking out his pocket watch he noticed that it was already well past two in the morning.

"Damn." He snapped his watch closed and grabbed his wand and cloak, as he rushed to the door. He paused for only a second wondering if he should alert Dumbledore about what was going on, but decided against it.

He owed a lot to the Malfoys for everything they had done for him, and even if Lucius was too far entrenched up the Dark Lord's arse, he knew he could still at least trust Narcissa. As gullible and naïve as it made him sound, he couldn't let the Headmaster into what could be a private affair. So, he would wait and hear his old friend out first, give her a chance to tell him what was going on, then he would decide whether to involve Albus or not. For now he owed her his silence on the matter.

The thought that this could possibly be a trap had crossed his mind, but he didn't think it was. His instincts and Narcissa's odd behavior told him that that she was no more invested in the Dark Lord than he was anymore. Whatever she wanted to talk to him about must be important though, especially if she were interrupting her beauty sleep to sneak out of the house and meet with him.

Severus closed his door, tightening his robes around his body as he cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and quietly made his way to a portrait of a sleeping dragon. At his approach the dragon blinked one lazy eye open. It snorted at him, as if to say, 'bugger off', then dropped its head back down.

Ignoring the scrap of paint and magic, Severus lifted a finger to run it along the underside of the glided frame, from the very top corner of the right hand side to the bottom in one smooth move. He let only the tiniest bit of his magic spark from his finger tip as he did so.

He stepped back as the dragon yawned in boredom, before swinging the portrait open, revealing a wide, dank tunnel. Severus stepped inside, lighting his wand. The door closed, flooding the tunnel with darkness.

His sure feet quickly navigated through the secret corridor, bringing him outside and by the gates of Hogwarts in no time. The second he crossed the castle's ward lines, he Apparated away, ignoring the bright red phoenix flying above him.

* * *

Unsure if there were Muggles meandering around the park or not, Severus Apparated to a heavily wooded area just in case. With the dark filter of night and his black robes, he easily blended into the park's shadows, his 'pop' of arrival barely disturbing the area's natural stillness.

Severus made his way to the Serpentine, keeping out of the small blimps of light provided by the street lamps. The bridge, when he got there was completely empty and had him looking around in confusion. Cissy was never one for tardiness (unless she was trying to make a point, of course) and it was already five to three.

The thought that this was a trap, again reared its ugly head, but Severus stamped it down. It couldn't be one. He knew Narcissa's writing, knew her seal, that she had charmed herself so it couldn't be replicated, he had even smelt the faintest touch of her rose oil scent from the parchment.

Besides, he had detected the slightest hint of desperation from her note. The slant to her words had been sharper, and the indent from her quill tip had been heavy as if she had been in a rush when she wrote it, possibly even upset.

The nature of the message was odd as well. Having him come here in the dead of night meant that she obviously didn't want anyone, namely Lucius, to know about their meeting. Otherwise she would have just invited him to the manor like usual.

But what could she be hiding from Lucius? What didn't she want him to know? Was she in trouble? No, that didn't make sense. If she were in trouble the first person she would go to would be Lucius, not him.

_Unless Lucius is the one she's trying to escape_, he thought, anger rising in him swiftly at his old friend. Could he be that far gone? Lucius absolutely adored Narcissa. He practically worshipped the ground she walked on. Severus knew that the man was turning darker, but he didn't believe he had gotten to a point where he would hurt his most prized treasure yet.

So caught up in his thoughts, it took a while for Severus to register that someone was walking up behind him, but when it did his wand slid down into his hand. The familiar tap of heeled boots and the scent of roses in the air stopped him from raising his arm.

"Narcissa," he murmured.

"Severus, I'm glad to see you." Narcissa smiled gently. "Come, let us take a walk," she said and taking his arm, she steered him off the bridge and along the park's dirt sidewalk.

Severus remained silent, knowing that no manner of prompting would get Narcissa talking before she wanted to. The two walked companionably for a little while, soaking in the silence.

"I know you are wondering why I asked you here, Severus," Narcissa began.

"The question had crossed my mind."

The witch huffed. "I'm sure it has…I …" She stopped, letting go of him and turning away. She peered thoughtfully into the distance, struggling with a decision and then suddenly, she was turning, with a determined look.

"You love Draco, yes?" she asked, catching Snape off-guard.

"Cissy, why are you asking me—"

"It's a simple question, Severus. Do you love my Draco?"

Severus said nothing for a moment, taken aback by the abrupt change in his friend's demeanor. Had something happened to Draco? Had she learned about something that was going to happen? He was tempted to take a peak into her mind, but knew that she would be aware of his presence the second he tried.

"You know I do," he answered her finally.

Narcissa looked at him hard, as if trying to detect a lie in his blank face. With a sigh, she looked away, nodding to herself. "Yes, I know you do."

"Cissy, what is this about?"

She seemed to be gathering herself as she answered, "I have a proposition for you, Severus."

"Oh?"

"I'm offering my services to you and your Order," she replied, her mouth thinning with displeasure.

Severus froze and his heartbeat pumped loudly in his ears. Suspicion was his first reaction. How could it not be in his line of work? But he kept calm, because he knew that Narcissa wouldn't turn her back on him. At least she wouldn't do so without giving him a proper warning first. It was what he would do for her.

"They are hardly my Order. I only spy on them on behalf of our Lord, nothing more," he said with forced calm. He gripped his wand in anticipation. Just in case.

Narcissa looked at him patiently. "I am not my sister, Severus. I have no interest in tattling to the Dark Lord on you. Rather I find your true allegiance quite fortuitous at the moment."

"I do not know what you—"

"Do not play me for a fool, Severus! I've seen the picture," Narcissa hissed, her face fierce and serious. Severus looked down at her in surprise, unused to seeing her as anything but measured and dignified.

Quickly following on the heels of that shock was panic, because if she had truly seen **that** picture then he knew there was no way for him to lie his way out of this. There was no point. She had all the proof she needed that he wasn't the loyal Death Eater he claimed to be and no matter what she said about not caring, there was no reason why she would bring up the picture if she wasn't planning on exposing him.

_Damn…I should've warned Albus before I left. _

He looked around, wondering if a bunch of hooded figures would emerge from the trees to cart him off to the Dark Lord for judgment. Had this been just an elaborate set up? Had he misplaced his trust all these years? The idea was like a punch to the gut, the first drops of betrayal a bitter taste on his tongue.

"Have you now?" he asked, his gaze hardening as he took a step back.

"I've known for years, Severus," she told him. "Ever since Draco was three."

He paused. If she had known for that long, then why hadn't she said anything? Why hadn't she warned Lucius that his friend wasn't on their side? Why hadn't she warned the Dark Lord, when he had slunk back to his side as his 'spy?'

Snape pointed his wand at her, curiosity and wariness clawing at him. "And yet you said nothing. Why?" he demanded.

"Because you were and still are a dear friend," Narcissa responded, the rigidness leaking from her perfect features. "And I believed the Dark Lord to be truly dead, so in the end it didn't matter."

"But he came back," Severus pressed.

"Yes, he did. But you have proven time and time again your loyalty to MY family…" Narcissa gulped, a stricken look crossing her face. "If not for the potion you created for me, I would have never been able to carry Draco to term. And, well."

Severus looked away, lowering his wand. A flood of relief washed over him, because he had seen the truth in her eyes. A truth that not even the most cunning Slytherin could hide. Narcissa was grateful and loyal to HIM, at least more than she was to the Dark Lord. She wouldn't be running to the Dark Lord to spill his secrets anytime soon.

"It was the least I could do after everything you and Lucius had done for me," he finally said. "You should not feel as if you should pledge yourself to the Order's cause to repay me. I would never ask that of you."

"It is not for your sake that I offer my eyes and ears. It is for Draco's."

"For Draco? If you were to be caught, you would put Draco in even more danger. He would be the first one that the Dark Lord would punish. Just to make you suffer," he warned her.

Narcissa grimaced. "Not if Draco is out of his reach."

"You cannot think that hiding him will work."

"Lucius knows too many dark spells for me to try to hide Draco away at a safe house, and he would be more than willing to use them if it meant getting him back."

"Even if Draco's return would mean his death?" Severus asked, even though he already knew the answer to that. There wasn't much Lucius wasn't capable of anymore.

Narcissa frowned. There was a spark of sorrow, of longing, in her eyes as she stepped away.

"Do you know, the week that the Dark Lord came back, Lucius and I had celebrated our 20th anniversary."

Severus looked at her strangely. "I had forgotten in the excitement."

"He wanted to keep our celebration private. A rare occurrence with Lucius. You know how ostentatious he gets," she continued, lost in her memories. "He took me to a quiet park where he had a gazebo decorated, a small orchestra and a dining table set. He flew me in on his broom, straight onto a bed of rose petals covering the ground around the gazebo. When I asked him why he had covered the ground with rose petals, he told me, 'his queen should never have to walk on the ground of commoners.'"

Narcissa turned to him with watery eyes. "That man, who danced with me under the stars, was my husband, my Lucius. But my Lucius is gone now. He started slipping away the moment the Dark Lord came back. I can't save him, but I can at least save my son. You and I both know that Draco won't survive being a Death Eater."

She took a deep breath. "He's a gentle soul, really. And I have no doubt that should Lucius fail the Dark Lord again, Draco would be the one to suffer...I can't...I **won't** let that happen to my son. I won't lose him too."

"How do you hope to accomplish this?" Severus asked. "You've already acknowledged that you wouldn't be able to hide Draco without Lucius eventually hunting him down."

"By hiding him in plain sight," she answered with a sly smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I want him with the Order, under Dumbledore's protection. At the moment, the Headmaster's side is the only safe place for him."

"Who's to say Lucius just won't pluck him away from Dumbledore the first chance he gets?"

Narcissa pursed her lips in exasperation. "The Potter boy has been in the public's eye since he was an infant, doubly so since his return to the Wizarding World and yet he keeps slipping through the Dark Lord's fingers. The same could be said for the Weasleys and Potter's little Mudblood friend. Whatever methods Dumbledore is using to protect them, use them for Draco."

"There is a difference between them and Draco, Cissy. Their legal guardians are only too happy for Dumbledore's assistance. Draco does not have that luxury. The law would be on Lucius' side," he reminded her.

"Draco will be a legal adult in a matter of weeks. His choices will be his own. Until then, I've arranged for him to be out of the country, which should delay his initiation long enough for him to get out."

"And Lucius is okay with this?" Severus asked incredulously. Draco's initiation was all the other man ever talked about.

"He will be," Narcissa commented, unconcerned.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Cissy, I am not even sure Albus and the Order will agree to this. They won't want to work with a Malfoy."

He could already imagine their outraged accusations. They would yell and hiss, believing that the Malfoys were trying to spy on them, and then they'd toss mother and child out on their ears without a thought.

Her blue eyes narrowed, but she remained calm otherwise. "It is not a matter of 'want', it is a matter of 'need', and right now your Order needs me. We both know that your position within the Inner Circle is hanging by a thread."

"Yes, charming assessment. Thank you for that," Severus drawled.

"It is simple truth, Severus. Bella is gaining favor rapidly. I don't know what she has done, but for now, she has the Dark Lord's ear and has been doing nothing but whispering your faults into it since. It's only a matter of time before he caters to her whim and what will your Order do then? If I were to take your place then you would at least be able to get out in time and the Order would still have their information," she reasoned.

There was some truth to her words. He himself knew that it wouldn't be long before the Dark Lord found him out and punished him accordingly. He had only hoped that by the time his true loyalties were exposed, the Light would have all the information they needed to finally put that monster to rest. It was the only hope that kept him going back to the maniac's side some days, but if they had another informant…

"What will you tell Albus? And the Order?" he suddenly asked. "They won't believe that you've suddenly decided to befriend Muggles."

Narcissa waved her hand, unconcerned. "As well they shouldn't. I have no interest in what happens to the Muggles." Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "My only priority is Draco."

"Albus will want to look into your mind. He won't be satisfied with just your word," he cautioned her.

"I'm prepared for that. I will do whatever it takes, as long as Draco is taken care of."

"Very well," Severus relented. "I will speak with Albus."

"Thank you," Narcissa responded, releasing a relieved breath.

"I'm still not sure how you will keep Lucius from turning the country upside down in order to get his son back."

"That's something I'd rather not get into just now," she responded. Her words were sad, yet resigned.

Severus looked over his friend in concern. He didn't like the way she was talking. "Cissy, I don't want you doing anything too dangerous. You have Draco to think of."

"I am a mother, Severus. A desperate mother who is on the cusp of losing her son," she said, dangerously. She looked at him and her eyes flashed with a deadly promise. "I'll do whatever it takes. Draco will eventually understand."

After extracting a promise from him that he would contact her after he talked to Albus, Narcissa bade him goodbye, disappearing with a pop just as the sky lightened with the morning.

Severus watched her go, feeling uneasy. Her last words sat poorly on his brain. She had insinuated that she was going to do something drastic in order to protect her son, and that Draco would probably not approve of it, which worried Snape. There wasn't much that Draco wouldn't forgive his mother for doing. Hell, Severus was positive that Narcissa could kill a man in cold blood in front of Draco and the boy would still forgive her. The only thing Severus could think of that Draco would object to would be if Narcissa put herself in unnecessary danger.

With a sigh, he rubbed at his tired face. He had a lot to think about and even more to talk to Albus about.

* * *

**A/N: So Narcissa is just a tiny bit Ooc here, because she's not as attached to the Dark Lord here, but I believe that if its for her family, she'll do anything, even turn her back on a mad man who's determined to hurt them. **

**Next up: Draco and Blaise talk strategy and the ministry pays a visit.**

**As Always **

**~Review!**


	23. Vows and Machinations

**Well, this one took me forever to do. I wrote it, erased it, and rewrote it like four times before I finally decided to just run with this version. I also had to take out the ministry visit. I realized I needed a couple of other things to happen first. So a lot of reworking happened all around, and then the chapter just kept getting longer and longer. ****So hopefully the extra long chapter will make up a little for how long this took me to write.**

**Oh! And I've officially broke 200 reviews! Woot, Woot! Thank you all so much for the love!**

**And of course a large thank you to my betas, Emilia Wolfe and McGonagalla's Bola. **

* * *

**Last Time:**

_"I am a mother, Severus. A desperate mother who is on the cusp of losing her son," she said, dangerously. She looked at him and her eyes flashed with a deadly promise. "I'll do whatever it takes. Draco will eventually understand."_

_After extracting a promise from him that he would contact her after he talked to Albus, Narcissa bade him goodbye, disappearing with a pop just as the sky lightened with the morning._

* * *

Chapter 22

The Portkey that Albus gave him brought Severus to a despicable little room that hadn't seen any form of life in decades. He was sure that even the roaches had long since abandoned the building for greener pastures ages ago.

Debris was everywhere, the furniture was broken and covered with dust, the rugs were moldy, and the light fixtures were nothing more than cracked glass. On the east side of the room was an old brick fireplace, though calling it a fireplace was being rather generous on his part. With the mantle fallen from the top and a sparse amount of blackened bricks still attached, it looked more like a conglomeration of rubbish and soot.

A loud creak from above him had him staring at the ceiling suspiciously, with his wand raised, just in case the roof decided to cave in and try to brain him.

_Imagine that. Over a decade of spying on a tyrannical madman and I get done in by a wood beam. _He snorted at the thought. Somehow that kind of pointless end wouldn't surprise him. The fates hadn't been on his side since the beginning and dying under rubble in some forgotten town seemed exactly like something the sadistic bitches would plan for his end.

Another sharp sound, like a twig snapping, came from below and that was all the warning he was given before a section of the rotted floor gave in. Chunks of wood crumbled under the pressure of his foot and he barely had time to jump out of the way before a large gaping hole appeared in the middle of the room.

"Damn, senile old man," Severus grumbled, righting himself as best he could on the now uneven floor.

He was quick to make repairs where he could and reinforce the rest of the floor. As an added precaution he decided to reinforce the walls and ceiling as well. It wouldn't last, not even through the night. He was sure of it. There were some things that not even magic could fix, and a house that was barely hanging on by a thread was one of them. The minute his spells wore off, the place would collapse in on itself.

It was fortunate then, that he wasn't planning on staying longer than an hour, Albus be damned. If the old man wanted to drag this out then he better be willing to do so without his spy.

Behind him, he heard the telltale pop of Apparition. The smell of licorice and cinnamon immediately assaulted his nose. _Speak of the devil…_

"Severus, I'm glad you could make it," Albus said in greeting.

"I'm picking the location next time." He glared at him over his shoulder.

Albus looked around, his brows lifting in surprise at the large hole in the center of the room. "Hmm, this is not quite what I expected."

"This place isn't fit for rodents, Albus."

The moment of shared levity was quickly over as the reason why they had to scuttle around in condemned buildings weighed down on them. Dumbledore suddenly looked uncharacteristically serious. "You are sure about this? We could lose…so much…"

Silence stretched between the two wizards as Severus thought over his words. He couldn't fault Albus' misgivings about Narcissa's proposal. The war was heating up, and unfortunately, their side had already taken so many hits that they couldn't afford to lose any more ground. If the Dark Lord managed to get a decent spy in the Order's higher ranks, their precarious house of cards would topple to the ground and everything would be lost. And Narcissa would make more than a decent spy.

He scratched at the turned-over mantle, catching ash under his fingernail then flicking it away, as he measured his words. "I believe…that it is at least worth hearing her out. In this case, overzealous caution would be detrimental to our success."

"And thoughtless acceptance could be even more so." Albus removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, heaving a tired sigh. "Were you able to send her the message?"

"Of course. You needn't worry. She always did like being fashionably late." It was a slight lie, but Severus needed this meeting to go off without a hitch and Albus didn't need to know that Narcissa didn't respect him enough to be perfectly punctual. The headmaster would not take the revelation well.

"Good, good." Flicking his wand, Dumbledore transfigured a three-legged table into a chair. Just as he was sitting down, the door pushed open, and the last of their party finally arrived.

Even with the door jamming on the hinges, Narcissa managed to walk into the room elegantly, and taking in her surroundings, she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "My, these rooms are certainly…interesting."

"They're shit," Severus corrected her. "No need to waste etiquette on this place. It's a lost cause." He walked up to his old friend and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles. "How are you, Cissy?"

Narcissa smiled at him softly. "I've been well. Thank you for getting back to me."

"Of course. Come," Severus instructed, leading her further into the room, around the yawning hole, and towards Albus. Once he was sure the two wouldn't try to hex each other, he made his way back to the fireplace to observe the proceedings quietly.

"Lady Malfoy," Albus acknowledged her with a slight nod of his head, to which she returned the favor.

"Headmaster."

Clasping his hands in front of him, Dumbledore got straight to the point. "I was…surprised, to say the least, when Severus told me about your desire to help. You will excuse my astonishment, but it was not something one would think to hear from any member of your family."

"Understandable. We've made no bones with making our opinion known," Narcissa agreed amicably enough.

"Exactly, which is why I find it hard to believe that you would desire to suddenly abandon your cause and fight for ours."

"As I have told Severus before, I am not fighting for _your_ cause or anyone's. I could care less about your impractically romantic ideals."

Though relatively still calm, Severus could see Albus' hands clenching in his growing agitation. Narcissa seemed to catch this as well, and smirked at the minor tell, which nearly had Severus' eyes rolling. Not even five minutes into the meeting and already they were throwing raspberries at each other. Perhaps he should just be grateful that their wands hadn't made an appearance yet.

He sent a look to Narcissa, a silent, exasperated plea that she not taunt her possible ally any further. She in turn sniffed delicately at him, tilting up her nose.

"I believe you were misinformed, Lady Malfoy. There is nothing impractical in fighting for the betterment of our **whole** society, instead of just a small percentage that clings to shadowy morals," Albus argued in a condescending tone.

_Just drop it, Albus…_Snape thought, holding back the urge to bang his head against the wall. It was like he was watching a schoolyard tussle between children. He was just waiting for one of them to start pulling the other's hair.

Narcissa, of course would not allow the Headmaster to get in the last word and huffed in amusement. "They are for the good of the lower classes and no one else. Do not try to act like you are fighting for my betterment when you are, in fact, fighting to do the opposite. Why should I support someone who belittles my upbringing and thumbs his nose at my traditions, my culture?"

"And yet you are here, catering to the very side you so obviously despise," Albus shot back.

_Children, I'm surrounded by children._

Narcissa's jaw twitched, but she otherwise gave no sign that she was annoyed. "My sole reason for doing this is for Draco. Nothing more, nothing less."

Albus was clearly not happy with the way the proceedings were going. He had probably expected contrition, desperation, for Narcissa to prostrate herself at his feet, like Severus had done when he begged for Lily's life. Unfortunately, Narcissa was far from desolate. She was driven, yes, and determined to save her son, but Hell would freeze over, thaw out, then freeze again before Narcissa Malfoy ever begged for anything.

"Yes, Severus mentioned something about that. If we were to accept your offer, is that all you'd want in return, for the Order to take care of your son?" Albus asked, calming himself down.

"Take care?" Narcissa scoffed. "I don't need milkmaids. I want his _protection._ The best that the Order can give him, both during and after the war."

"After the war?"

She gave Dumbledore a withering look. "I am no fool, Headmaster. Even should you all win the war, and Draco is kept out of it, the Wizarding World won't look on him kindly. Not when the Malfoys have openly supported the Dark Lord. He would be crucified if the Wizengamot got their claws on him. But you're not going to let that happen. You're going to help him during any trials, AND with his integration back into society."

Albus looked at her curiously. "Do you not wish to add any assistance for your husband or yourself?"

Narcissa almost appeared amused. "Are you offering to keep Lucius out of Azkaban?"

"No," he replied plainly. "Your husband has dug too deep a hole for himself. I was merely curious if you would ask."

A grimace touched the witch's refined features. "I am not ignorant of the position my own husband is in, and would not ask for the impossible," she said surprising them. The Head of Slytherin was especially shocked that his fellow house member hadn't tried to milk Albus' connections for all they were worth. That she hadn't tried to take advantage of the negotiations and secure protection for her whole family seemed odd. Unless, of course, she already had other plans for her and Lucius. Now, **that** seemed more likely.

"Very well," Albus responded, then added as an afterthought, "We will, however, let it be known that you were acting on behalf of the Order afterward."

She waved a hand. "Fine, but make your priority Draco. I will settle for nothing less than complete protection."

"And what will you offer us in return?" Dumbledore asked. Severus straightened up, waiting for Narcissa's response as well.

Said witch raised her chin imperiously. "I'm offering to spy for your Order. I will move into the Dark Lord's inner circle and report his activities to you."

"I already have Severus for that. Why would I need you?"

"And who else do you have if Severus can no longer perform his duties? It's not a secret, even to those of us outside of the Dark lord's circle, that he is not too pleased with Severus at the moment."

She sent Snape an apologetic frown, but he shook his head. Albus and he had long been worried about his quickly declining favor. Having Narcissa say it out loud didn't change the truth of it. He imagined the only reason he was still clinging to his high position was because the majority of the Dark Lord's displeasure was currently occupied by Pettigrew, who was still hanging in the Lestrange's dungeons somewhere, and Rabastan, who had yet to nab Granger.

"She makes a valid point, Albus. It would not hurt to have an extra man—"

"Woman, my dear," Narcissa interjected primly.

Severus shot her a look, but still corrected himself. "Having a _woman_ on the inside would be beneficial. Narcissa also has connections that we could utilize."

"I can see the advantages," Albus conceded, "but I cannot make such an important decision without knowing for sure that Mrs. Malfoy is sincere in her desire to help us." He looked towards said witch.

"I expected as much," she informed them. "Will you be using Veritaserum or Legilimency?"

"I'm afraid I will need a thorough search to ease my mind," Albus responded.

"Very well, whenever you are ready." Narcissa closed her eyes and breathed deep.

The Headmaster walked over to the witch, gently grabbing her face to keep her still and when her eyes reopened, he whispered, "Legilimens."

Minutes dragged by in the silent room as the witch and wizard stared blindly at each other, lost in a sea of Narcissa's memories. Only the faintest hint of sweat touched their brows giving away their exhaustion from the exercise. Still, Severus could tell that Albus was at least being as gentle in his examination as possible, seeing as Narcissa wasn't out of breath on the ground. The Potions Professor had initially feared that Dumbledore would treat her to the same ruthless inspection that he had given him on that first fateful meeting, but he was glad to see the Headmaster showing some restraint this time around. It wouldn't be wise to build antagonism so early in the game with what could be a key player.

After a small eternity, the two finally broke apart, Narcissa taking a longer moment to right herself. Severus transfigured a chair for her and helped her take a seat, knowing full well how disoriented the mind could be after such a rigorous search. Albus, just as winded, sank into his own chair.

"Are you satisfied?" Severus asked him quietly.

"Yes," Albus breathed out, "Her offer is genuine."

Then to Narcissa, he said, "I will accept your offer, and in return the Order will protect Draco and you to the best of our abilities. We will need a vow though for security purposes." He heaved himself out of his chair with some effort to stand in front of her with his hand out.

"I understand," she replied, out of breath, "but I will only take an oath with Severus."

"Why—"

She held up a hand. "I know that you will not try to back-stab me. However, you do not truly care for Draco. Severus does, so it is with him that I will take the vow."

When Albus still didn't say anything, she added, "It is a small thing to do to ease a worried mother's mind."

"Severus, would you be alright with this?"

Oddly enough, he was. What Narcissa hadn't said was that she trusted HIM, not Albus or the Order, but HIM with her son's life and her family's future. There was sentiment behind her statement and Severus was touched that she had such faith in him. So, despite the inherent threat that came with the Order's vows, he wouldn't turn his back on her or her request.

"I'm fine with it," he confirmed.

With a sigh, the Headmaster relented, nodding towards Severus to take his spot and when the two traded positions, Severus held out his hand. This time Narcissa easily accepted the gesture and stood, her fingers securely wrapped around his.

Albus' wand circled them, and a thin tendril of magic appeared like smoke around their clasped arms.

"On behalf of the Order," Severus began, "we vow to protect Draco Malfoy both during the war and afterwards, no matter the outcome. He will not be held liable for any of his actions on behalf of Voldemort up to this point. We will provide legal assistance for him should the need arise, as well as sanctuary and our resources to help him reintegrate into Wizarding Britain or any location of his choosing. Draco will also not be forced to work or fight in any capacity for the Order as compensation if he should not desire to do so. We also vow to support, you, Narcissa Malfoy in your mission for the Order."

The line of magic around Severus' wrist brightened in a brilliant glow.

Locking eyes with him, Narcissa cleared her throat. "I, Narcissa Malfoy, vow that in payment for Draco's safety and the Order's assistance in his welfare, I will spy for the Dark Lord, Voldemort, on behalf of the Order. I also offer any available resources I have at my disposal and should the Order need my aid, I shall endeavor to give it, provided that it doesn't compromise my primary mission."

Just as the magic had done for Severus, it brightened as well for Narcissa, then it sank into their arms, sealing the vow permanently. It was done.

Severus twisted his arm around, shaking the residual phantom weight off. "Welcome to the Order, Narcissa."

"Hmm. Thank you, I suppose."

Albus stepped between them to offer Narcissa his hand. The two shook hands peacefully and for the first time that night Albus was sincerely smiling. "I look forward to working with you, Mrs. Malfoy."

"And I you, Headmaster."

"Well, I best be heading back to the school," Albus announced, once again his normally cheerful self. "I have an early morning. Severus, I'll see you back at the castle. And Mrs. Malfoy, I'll contact you again later this week." With a swift bow to them, he popped out of the room.

With the Headmaster gone, Narcissa finally allowed her shoulders to droop in exhaustion. Turning to Severus she grinned faintly. "Thank you again, for doing this, Severus."

He softened at the weary picture she made and allowed a hint of a smile to come out as well. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You're family," he answered simply, and really to someone who loved her family as much as she did, that was all he needed to say to her. "Though you shouldn't be too worried about Draco. He's a clever boy. A survivor."

"Yes," she agreed quietly, "yes, he is."

* * *

Draco was going to lie.

Generally, lying wasn't a big deal. Hell, he lied on a daily basis, perhaps even three or four times an hour. It was a useful tool and he was too smart to not use it to his benefit.

But he was also smart enough to be cautious with it.

Not many would believe that he was conscientious with his silver tongue, but he was actually quite careful in where he applied his talent. It all depended on the risk/rewards ratio. With his peers he knew that he could claim to be a purple Pixie and it wouldn't matter a fig whether he was caught or not. The risks would be inconsequential. Lying to a professor was in the same vein. While it was a slightly harder undertaking that he treated with more prudence, he still didn't consider it off limits. Again the rewards were simply too good to pass up and the worst case scenario if he fucked it up was an afternoon in detention.

Easy as flying a broom.

Now there were a few people on his list that were completely un-exploitable. Oh, they could be tricked just like anyone else. Given the right circumstances and leverage anyone could be tricked.

The problem didn't lie in **how **to trick them, it was in the aftermath, after they would have figured out that they had been tricked, and the inevitable shit storm that would follow in the wake of their revenge. With some people, the risks just far outweighed the rewards.

The Dark Lord was on that list, for obvious reasons and right under him, was his father. Lucius Malfoy was not a man to be trifled with and Draco had learned long ago that being on his bad side was highly inadvisable. And yet, here he was, tempting fate by writing a letter filled with lies at the crack of dawn with sweaty palms and jittering nerves.

As he expected this exercise was becoming a trial that he wasn't sure he was up to yet. The right words weren't flowing to him with the ease they usually did, and his brain was turning into a frozen caricature of its once immaculate state. Maybe this writer's block was his mind's way of telling him to stop while he was ahead. To pull out while he still had a chance and run in the other direction.

He smoothed out the wrinkled parchment, and magically erased the sentence he had just written. His teeth chewed on the tip of his quill.

He had already put in his usual report on Headmaster Dumbledore and Potter. It was the rest of his report that was proving to be the problem. His father was becoming increasingly interested in Granger of all fucking people—no, that didn't quite explain it. His father's obsession with the Mudblood was rivaling the Dark Lord's. The two were absolutely convinced that she was hiding something important.

Every other letter that Draco received from his father was about Granger. What was she doing? Did she look different? Had she been acting suspicious? Were there any rumors floating around about her?

Granger. Granger, Granger, GRANGER.

Ugh. If he didn't already dislike the chit, he would certainly despise her and the bloody mystery surrounding her "academic leave" (that his father kept insisting was more than what it appeared to be) now.

He had to admit, the whole affair was a little suspicious. There was something off about it that he just couldn't put his finger on. Eventually he would unravel the mystery. It was only a matter of time before the Gryffindor did something to show her hand, and when she did, he would be there. And when he figured it out, he might just tell his father, depending, of course, on whether or not he still needed to keep up appearances for the Dark Lord.

Then again, there was an equal chance that he would be long gone by then, "defecting" to the Order in a fit of consciousness (according to his mother) and hiding out somewhere in Dumbledore's basement. It was an undignified picture of the future, but at least he would be free from the Granger-watch he was on now, and more importantly he would be able to avoid that damn mark.

The mark…

His head dropped to his hands as he groaned. He was nauseous just thinking about the stupid tattoo he had once thought was so cool. Why? Because it had a snake and skull? Merlin, how stupid had he been to think that the repulsive thing was cool, but Draco wasn't fooled any longer. The wool had long ago been pulled from his eyes and he could see it for what it was. It was a brand, a slave marking, puppet strings just waiting to take away his freedom.

He wasn't blind, he saw what it had been doing—was still doing to his father. His father had never been a cheery type of person, but he had been a steady fixture in Draco's life. A calm, assured pillar of dignity and strength that had been doting in his own way, but ever since the Dark Lord had returned he had become a stranger. A dark, vicious, unstable stranger, and Draco knew that the fault lay in that damn mark.

It was doing something to his father, just like it was warping the minds of every other Death Eater. He just knew it, and what was worse, his father wanted **him** to wear it too. If he didn't manage to escape then that was exactly what would happen. He wouldn't have a choice in the matter. It would be either take the mark like his father wanted or have the Dark Lord kill him for being a traitor.

How long, then, would it take for him to become a bloodthirsty menace? How long before he forgot what it was like to be happy? How long before he became so crazy that he would gladly hand over his own son to a monster?

Shivering, Draco sat up on his bed, and yanked open the drawer on his nightstand. He rifled through its contents until his fingers touched cool metal. He pulled out the flask, sloppily twisted off the cap, and took a small swig. The alcohol burned its way down his throat pleasantly, calming his nerves.

"A bit early for that, isn't it?" Blaise said, leaning up against the door to his room with an amused smirk. With a swish of his wand, the unwelcome intruder reset the wards that he had dismantled to get into the private room.

Draco would have berated the other boy for barging into his room and taking down the wards he had obviously put up to keep company _out_, but that would be an admission to Blaise that he had been too distracted to catch his entrance and stop him.

And that kind of error was completely unacceptable to admit to.

The only decent thing to do in this situation was collect his pride and act completely unaffected. So, Draco sat back against his headboard and took another sip of his liquor, this one just for Blaise's benefit, before he closed the bottle and shoved it back into his drawer. "Remind me to add a nastier curse on my door. Something to keep slippery rats out."

Grinning, Blaise sat down in one of the armchairs by his room's fireplace. "I'm a rat? What happened to the beautiful, forgiving bonds of friendship?"

Draco turned his nose up. "I don't have friends at six in the morning. I have practice dummies that I can try new hexes on if they try to become too familiar with my person." He slipped his wand out from under his pillow and let it hang lazily from his hand in front of him. "Tell me, Zabini, what has you traipsing so foolishly through my door on this fine Tuesday morning?"

His fellow Slytherin sighed dramatically. "First I'm a rat, then I'm a fool…why must you be so abusive, Draco? And here I brought you a wonderful gift too…" A sealed, manila envelope was taken out of his robes and waved in the air.

Draco crossed the room to sit in the other chair by Blaise. "A gift? Well, that certainly skews my temperament back in your favor."

"Why thank you, Draco. I live to serve," the other wizard commented drily, tossing the envelope onto the blonde's lap. "However, I do believe I deserve something more than just your pleasant company for this little boon here."

Curious, Draco broke the seal and opened the envelope. A thick packet of paper, clipped in the corner with a Sticking Charm, fell out.

Blaise began cleaning his nails with a bored expression as he waited. "You know we should really come up with a name to call this little organization we have. We can't keep having people ask for us specifically. Eventually our names will wind up in the wrong ear."

"Well, why don't you come up with something, then? And don't make it too ridiculous," Draco replied, as he turned over the papers. It was an Apprenticeship Request. In the top right corner, the Ministry's emblem was proudly displayed.

"I don't know. Maybe if its good enough we can turn it into a brand after the war. Make t-shirts," the other boy joked.

"Hmm, as long as they're green," Draco agreed absently. His eyes skimmed the paper, skipping over the dry legal text and reading through the personal questions that had already been filled out with his information (all surprisingly accurate). "Why did you fill out an Apprenticeship request for me?"

"Turn to page three and see who your master is."

Too interested to protest, Draco did as he was told looking through the third page, and searching for the 'surprise' the other boy kept alluding to. Finally he saw it. Near the bottom, right hand corner, his soon-to-be Master's name was written in blocky cursive.

_Potion Master Edward Ives_.

"Edward Ives?" Draco sputtered, shocked to his core. "Blaise, how the bloody fuck did you get THE Edward Ives to agree to this? Better yet, how did you even manage to find him?! He hasn't been seen in the Wizarding World for the past seven years!"

Entirely too satisfied with himself, Blaise settled back in his seat. "Mum and him go way back. Apparently, she knew him before he was a recluse and she helped him with a few things. He was only too happy to sign the papers."

"Of course, how silly of me to even ask."

"Indeed." Blaise chuckled, then he straightened, becoming more serious. "Though I need to warn you, this is a real apprenticeship, so you can't slack off. Master Ives may have signed the papers as a favor for my mother, but he expects you to put in the work."

Draco gave a small incredulous laugh. "Yeah, as if I'm going to squander a priceless opportunity like this. Which house do you think I'm in? Gryffindor?"

Blaise rose his hands in surrender. "Just had to make sure. The apprenticeship is highly sought-after."

"Why give this to me now?" Draco asked, putting the papers down. "Apprenticeships can't be started until a NEWT in the subject of study has been completed—Not that I'm not excited about this, 'cause I am."

Blaise tapped the envelope. "Because this is your ticket out of initiation."

Draco looked skeptical. "And how is an apprenticeship for next **year**, supposed to help me avoid my initiation in three weeks? Your math isn't adding up Zabini."

"It **would** be adding up if you read the letter from Master Ives, Malfoy."

"What letter?" Draco shifted through the pile of papers, lifting them off of his lap. A folded piece of parchment with a wax seal fell to the floor. He picked it up, turning it over to see his name on the front in the same blocky cursive. He tore the seal and opened the letter, quickly skimming through its contents greedily.

"Well?" Blaise asked.

Draco looked up with a smug grin. "Master Ives wants to meet me to ascertain my skill level. He'll be picking me up from the station at the end of the school year and has offered to let me stay with him in Italy for the first month of my summer hols."

Letting the parchment drop on the coffee table between them, Draco let out a relieved laugh. "This is perfect!" he exclaimed. "Father won't be able to say no to this. Having a Master of Ives' status honor me with an apprenticeship would raise our family's reputation back up in the public's eye, which will give him more political leeway. Having Ives show up personally to retrieve me will just be the cherry on top. Oh this is good!"

He pointed a finger at Blaise. "**You** are good."

"Aren't I though." Blaise preened under the praise. "There's a letter to your parents as well, explaining what is going on, though your mother already knows about all this."

"She does?"

"Of course, it was her idea."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

Blaise took the papers from him and put them on the coffee table as well. Then he pulled out a notebook and a quill from his bag. "Now, back to business. Do you have the information on the Skylar siblings?"

Draco got up, putting his letter away in his nightstand. He would read it over again and truly soak in each divinely inked word later tonight when he had the time. For now, there was business to take care of, and he had to put his giddy emotions aside.

On the wall beside his bed, there was a framed picture of his family hanging. Tapping it with his wand, he waited for the picture to move to the right, revealing a small, square hole in the wall that was filled with scrolls and notebooks. He grabbed a burgundy colored book and sank back into his chair.

"Alright, let's see," he muttered, flipping through the pages until he finally came to the one he wanted. "Here we go. James and Denise Skylar, both in Hufflepuff. They're Half-Bloods, but still widely respected. Their father, Bertram Skylar, is a Pure-blood who works at Gringotts. I believe the head of their Curse Breaking department. His family has long been considered "light" and his inclinations are following suit. His wife, Martha Skylar, maiden name, Thomes, works for the Ministry, and is a Half-Blood with Muggleborn parents."

"Do you think Riddle will seek out their mother to use as a spy?" Blaise asked, scribbling down notes.

"He can try, but from what I was able to gather, the family has been a huge supporter of Dumbledore since his rise to the position of Chief Warlock. Father, at least didn't seem to be impressed with them and didn't have too many kind words to spare."

"Do you think they're Order then?"

"They're close enough. And what's more, James and Denise are Potter fans," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

Blaise sat back, staring at the ceiling in thought. "Interesting," he hummed. "Still, it could be possible to approach them. It would be good to build relationships outside of our current circle of friends. And we might still be able to tempt them with protection. If their parents are really Dumbledore fans, then Riddle will come after them sooner or later."

Draco tapped his lower lip in thought."They won't want to talk to us. Or any Slytherin. We should probably have another Hufflepuff talk to them. Who do we have available?"

"Richard Dune would do it. We just moved his older brother out of the country."

"Benjamin? From the Ministry's Finance Department?"

"Mhmm. The very same."

"I remember that. The Dark Lord was in a fit after he heard."

"Good. That means we're doing our job right."

Draco scratched out something in his notebook. "Alright. We'll have him contact the Skylars. Have you heard from Leah yet?"

"Her father accepted the position in Athens and has already moved to a little flat in Olympus Point with his wife. Leah and her sister will be joining them right after her graduation. We still have to find new locations for twelve other seventh years and three of our potential clients have chosen to decline our help."

"Their memories?"

Blaise arched a mocking brow. "What memories?"

"Perfect," Draco replied. "I have a list of people who approached me this week. I've already crossed out three names. They were so obviously spies that it was almost painful watching them trying to weasel into my good graces."

"Draco Malfoy turned down an adoring fan? I'm shocked!" Blaise taunted him with faux wonder.

Draco wadded up an older letter and threw it at his friend. "Fuck off, Zabini. I'm not going to take that from someone who shuts himself in the bathroom for an hour every morning to primp."

Blaise straightened his shirt, dusting off the imaginary lint from his sleeves. "I have a certain reputation of perfection to uphold. I'm not ashamed of that," he informed Draco, who scoffed in amusement.

"Of course you're not. Now, did you get any requests?"

"A few, but there is an ally that I've had my eye on for a while that I think we should look at first," Blaise told him, handing him a folded paper.

Draco flipped it open and the read the single name in the center.

_Hermione Granger._

"You're shitting me." He dropped the paper. Fucking Granger! What was with everyone's interest in her?

"It would benefit us greatly if we can sway her to our side. You have to admit she's a powerful witch in her own right. a little lacking form and class, but we can work with that." Blaise waved his hand dismissively. "More importantly, Riddle wants her for something, and naturally, I'm disinclined to allow him to get what he wants."

"You want to approach Granger," Draco responded dumbfounded. "Why do you want the Mudblood?"

"Ah, ah, ah, Draco. That's no way to talk about our future ally," Blaise reprimanded him lightly.

"Blaise, be real. This whole fuss the Dark Lord is making about her can't be as big as he's claiming. I mean—it's Granger, for Merlin's sake!"

The other Slytherin leaned forward, determined. "I AM being real. Granger IS important. There is something going on with that witch. Something beyond what Dumbledore is saying, something about where she really went over break, and I'm going to find out what it is."

"You sound just like my father," Draco groaned and suddenly wished he hadn't put away his liquor just yet. "Next you'll be saying we should go picnicking with Potter."

"We'll get to Potter eventually when we have Granger on our side."

"What?!"

"Draco, are you seriously telling me that you're not curious about what's going on?"

"Why the fuck would you want to bring in Potter?"

"Draco! Pay attention!"

"Look, if," Draco finally replied, "and I say, IF, there is something going on I doubt it's as big as you're making it. And it's certainly no reason to tie ourselves to Granger." His face screwed up in disgust.

"There's something there," Blaise insisted. "Mother kept hinting that I befriend Granger, and she wouldn't have suggested that without a valid reason."

Draco sat up. "Your mother knows what's going on?"

"She has an idea...I think. But she won't share it with me," his friend grumbled, put out. "All she said was that I should get close and build a report with the witch if I can."

"Who's to say we can trust Granger? What's to stop her from backstabbing us? She hates Slytherins."

"She hates you. She doesn't know me well enough to hate me," he reminded him. "And I told you, Mother thinks we can."

"Well, you mother also thinks we can trust Uncle Severus too, so I wouldn't be so hung up on everything she claims."

"We can trust Professor Snape. You just refuse to believe it," Blaise remarked.

Draco rose from his chair to pace in front of the fireplace. "He was just going to sit back and let me get marked. How is THAT supposed to make him trustworthy?"

"You don't know that."

"I do know that. Uncle Severus is one of the cleverest wizards I know, aside from Father. If he wanted to get me out, he would have found a way months ago. Years ago even," Draco protested. He crossed his arms, staring into the fire as he finished in a lower voice, "He just didn't want to."

"You don't know what he was planning."

"And he has the mark. You _know_ what that does to the Dark Lord's followers."

"Yeah, still looking into that. Though, he doesn't seem all that insane."

"Perhaps he just hides it better. And if he has found a way to block its influence than why hasn't he shared it with my family? Or his students? For that matter why hasn't he tried to warn any of us from following the Dark Lord to begin with?"

Blaise looked at him as if he'd lost his sense. "And get himself killed? There's helping and then there's just suicide."

Draco glared at him. "He's the Head of Slytherin, he could have found a way to help covertly."

"How do you know that he hasn't been doing just that? There are several names on our list that were already leaving the country after graduation. How do we know that he wasn't the one behind that?"

"Because he would have said something to me!" Draco claimed, heatedly. "I would have known!"

Blaise sighed. "Fine. But, if you're so sure your godfather is an evil git then why are you against your father's plans to get rid of him?"

"Because," Draco began, his brows knitting in confliction, "he's still family."

"Right..."

"Oh shut it," he snapped. "Even if you're right about Uncle Severus, it doesn't mean you're right about Granger. The second we approach her, she'll go blabbing off to Saint Potter to help her from the big, bad, Slytherins."

"WE won't be approaching her. I will."

"And how do you plan on doing that without having the whole of Gryffindor House raining down on us in some misplaced sense of justice?"

Blaise smiled at him sweetly and said, "Very easily, Draco. When one wants to make friends, one only has to be friendly."

* * *

**A/N: and done. Narcissa is officially an Order member, and Draco and Blaise are making good headway in their schemes. We'll be seeing more of them and their machinations soon.**

**Up Next: Hermione and Severus time again! Hermione finishes off her 6th year exams with her Potions final. **

**As always. Review and let me know what you think~**


	24. Sneaking Suspicions and Multiple Tests

**Ok WOW! I have been away for a long time! I really do apologize for that. My last computer unfortunately croaked (RIP old mac) so I had to wait to get a new one. But the technical difficulties have been fixed, so all should be well again. But yeah, we're coming back with some SS/HG time, so yay**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. (We've hit 200 reviews!)- so excited! You guys are great and of course a lovely thank you to my betas, Emilia Wolfe and McGonagall's Bola.**

**(This has been beta'd now!)**

* * *

**Last Time: (since its been forever)**

**"Even if you're right about Uncle Severus, it doesn't mean you're right about Granger. The second we approach her, she'll go blabbing off to Saint Potter to help her from the big, bad, Slytherins."**

**"WE won't be approaching her. I will."**

**"And how do you plan on doing that without having the whole of Gryffindor House raining down on us in some misplaced sense of justice?"**

**Blaise smiled at him sweetly and said, "Very easily, Draco. When one wants to make friends, one only has to be friendly."**

* * *

Chapter 23

Harry nervously watched Hermione sigh, yet again, as they walked down to the dungeons. He was hovering, and once more he knew that he was being irritating with his hovering too. Honestly, he was a little surprised that Hermione hadn't cursed him yet. Well, she hadn't tried to curse him tonight at any rate. (He still had a small burn mark on his backside from when she stung him last week in the Great Hall).

She wasn't far from it. He could tell she was already losing patience, from the way her mouth was squeezed into a firm line, and how the pointer finger on her right hand twitched as if it were seeking out her wand.

In the back of his mind he knew that he was taking this whole 'guardian' thing too far. If there were any person in this world that could take care of herself it was Hermione, and yet….and yet, he couldn't banish those harmful thoughts away, the ones that screamed at him that he was going to lose his friend if he let his guard down. She could slip through his fingers just as easily as Sirius had. And then what would he do? She was his sister, as integral a part of him as the Weasleys were. He couldn't lose her too.

Hermione grunted quietly, and Harry realized that he had subconsciously drifted to her side again. Space was quickly put back in-between them.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, "I'm being a pest, aren't I?"

"A little, yeah." She smiled wryly at him.

Harry ducked his head in embarrassment. "I know, I'm—"

"Sorry?" Hermione finished for him, causing him to blush.

"Yeah…I know you can take care of yourself, but I'm just worried."

Hermione snorted inelegantly. "Over what? I'm perfectly safe here."

He wasn't liking how flippant she was being about her situation. As ridiculous as he was being, she WAS in actual danger. How could she not see that? "Voldemort is looking for you, Hermione. And you know he has people watching you here. They could try something at any moment!"

"They could try, yes, but that doesn't mean that they'll succeed," she replied. She placed her hands on his shoulders. "Look, I'm not being complacent or lax. If anything should happen, I'll be prepared for it. I promise. But seriously, I doubt any of the students here are actively plotting my demise. Their parents, maybe, but not the kids."

"What?!" Harry looked at her incredulously. "How can you say that? Draco—"

Hermione stepped back. "Not this again."

"Yes, this again! You know what kind of person he is. Why do you keep defending him?"

"I'm not defending him, Harry. But he's been really quiet lately. Hell, he hasn't even looked at me sideways in forever. I really doubt that he's planning anything sinister."

"But I SAW him sneaking around last night after curfew. If he's not planning anything then why would he be sneaking around?"

The blonde ferret had had such a shifty look about him last night that Harry just knew he was up to no good. And that wasn't the first time that he had caught him slinking around Hogwarts. About a week ago, he had caught a glimpse of green robes and blonde hair twisting around a corner, but when he had followed after him, the arrogant Pureblood had been nowhere to be seen.

Two nights later, he had been greeted with the same sight and had immediately set after Malfoy under the safety of his dad's cloak. He had managed to follow him all the way to an empty classroom on the fourth floor, but just as he was about to pull open the door, a strange need to walk away had overwhelmed him and he had turned back down the hall not seconds later. It wasn't until he was back in the Gryffindor common room that he had realized that he had been bamboozled with a Privacy Charm.

Lesson learned, he had gone back again to that same floor, but this time he halted around the corner, far enough away that any Confusion wards would have no effect on him. And he had waited. And waited. Until finally Malfoy had emerged in his fancy school robes from the room. Following him had been another person that Harry hadn't been able to identify. Not only had their hoods up, covering their faces, but they had been too far away to make any defining features out. He could only tell that they were a girl. But by the velvet green of her cloak, Harry had only been able to see that she was a Slytherin as well. No surprise there. It just confirmed in the Gryffindor's mind that Draco must have been up to no good.

But so far, whenever he brought it up with Ron and Hermione, they shrugged it off. Ron, had at least agreed that there may be something going on, but Hermione wouldn't hear any of it. For some reason she thought Draco was 'reformed' of all things—Draco Malfoy, Pureblood supremacist and child of Voldemort's most trusted follower, reformed. It was so insane an idea that Harry wanted to pull his hair out.

"What were you doing out after curfew?" Hermione asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

"What?"

"You said you saw Draco out after curfew, but the only way you could've seen that was if YOU were out after curfew too."

"Well, yeah, I was, but this isn't about me! This is about Draco and the fact that he's probably trying to get rid of you."

"Okay, first off, yes, this is about you too. You shouldn't be wandering around the school at night, abusing your Invisibility Cloak. It's for emergencies only."

"I'm not abusing it! I'm using it to protect my friends," he responded angrily. How could Hermione say that he was abusing his cloak? He had never used it unless it was completely necessary. She knew that!

They came to a stop in front of the Potions classroom and Hermione turned to him, and seeing the look on his face, she stopped whatever she was about to say.

"Harry," she began and something about her gentle tones soothed a bit of his anger. "I'm not trying to say you're overreacting or anything like that. I just think that we should give Malfoy a chance."

"But he was meeting up with another Slytherin. I saw her," he insisted, "and they looked like they were up to something."

An amused look passed over Hermione's face that Harry couldn't decipher. "Well," she said, "he does have a certain reputation among the female student body. Maybe he was meeting up with this girl for an entirely different reason."

The meaning behind his friend's words caused his cheeks to blush red. He did NOT want that kind of image in his head of the ferret. "I don't think that's the reason, Hermione," he grumbled, looking away.

"If you say so," she laughed, then gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "I have to go take my Potions exam, so I'll see you later. Thanks for walking me, Harry."

She waved at him as she opened the dungeon door and slipped inside, leaving Harry to shuffle back to the common room, his face still red and muttering the whole way.

* * *

The classroom was eerily quiet when Hermione walked in and…very empty. She cast a precursory glance around the room and noticed that her Potions professor was nowhere to be seen. How odd.

Peeking at her watch, she noted that she was exactly on time not a minute over or under the time frame the professor had given her after class today. So where on Earth was he?

She took her usual seat towards the front of the class and placed her bag down. Her quill set and ink were taken out shortly after and primly placed in front of her just so, and after a moment's deliberation (and a quick glance around the room to make sure she was truly alone) she took out a well-used notebook and flipped it open to a dog-eared page.

Her cramped handwriting filled the page, covering nearly every surface of paper that could be found. There were ink blots and slashes and words angrily crossed out. The words that you could see made absolutely no sense, and were just randomly strewn about the page. For anyone who knew Hermione and her meticulous note-taking skills, they would have been appalled by the sight, and thoroughly confused. Which was what she wanted.

She tapped the page with her finger, letting a bit of her magic caress it and like a switch being turned on, the page morphed, rearranging themselves until they were neat, orderly and back in place.

"Slytherin Research" was printed boldly at the top and below it were all her quickly growing notes on the Slytherin House; whom she thought was innocent, whom she thought were spies, and whether or not her peers were supporting Voldemort because they wanted to or because they had to.

Her notes had become quite extensive, quickly filling up several pages with her theories surrounding the different families involved. She had taken the lesson the Strumbard sisters had taught her to heart. She wasn't going to let House prejudices blind her from the truth and not only would she figure out what was going on with the Slytherins but she would find a way to help.

Currently, she had no idea how she was going to help anyone. It wasn't like she could go up to any of them and offer them a knitted hat, or a shoulder to cry on. They would look at her like she was loony. Plus "fraternizing" with a Gryffindor might get them in trouble, and she didn't want that. There was a barely-formed plan of going to Dumbledore with her information but she wasn't really sure where that would take her.

So, for now she just had a notebook filled with information that she had gotten from sleuthing. She had kept her ears open to gossip, listened in on conversations in class, and followed around her fellow students while Disillusioned.

Well, she wasn't all that proud of the last one. It certainly smacked of hypocrisy considering she just had reprimanded Harry for trailing Malfoy, but in her defense she hadn't followed them after curfew, only during the daytime. And she certainly hadn't been doing it so she could accuse them of criminal activities later.

For all the discomfort that her stalking of the Slytherins left her with, it did glean her a lot of useful information. Probably one of the most important bits of information that she had gathered from it, had been the fact that there was, indeed, someone in Slytherin who was helping their fellow Housemates escape Voldemort's influence. She didn't know who they were, only that they were offering a way of escape and quietly sowing seeds of dissent in the Snake Pit.

There was a bit of speculation going around about who this mystery person was, but so far no one knew anything specifically about them, only that they were being called Red Dragon. It was an impressive name, most likely taken from the the fable of Merlin and the two dragons. Her mother had read the story to her when she was younger once, explaining how two dragons, a red dragon and a white dragon were in a constant struggle. The red dragon, the weaker of the two, for the longest time seemed to be losing the battle until finally it gained the upper hand and defeated the white dragon. When questioned about what the battle could mean, Merlin prophesied that it was a sign that the native English (the red dragon) though weaker for now would soon overcome the saxons (the white dragon). It was an ingenious name that sent a message that could be easily rallied around and it made her who would be behind it.

She had a list of suspects, of course. It was nothing impressive. She certainly wouldn't wow anyone with her poor attempts at playing Sherlock Holmes, but it was a start. So far, she had whittled down the pool of possible candidates to someone in Slytherin House (despite the color of the dragon), because quite frankly, the only House that cared about Slytherin WAS Slytherin (as sad as that thought was).

For a time she had thought that maybe it was Professor Snape behind all the rebel activities, but she didn't think the Potions Master would have the time to orchestrate such elaborate plans, as well as do his normal teaching duties and his spying. He simply couldn't be in multiple places at once. The other professors, while they might have time on their hands, weren't as familiar with the Slytherins as him, and whoever this mystery vigilante was, they definitely knew the Slytherins intimately, so it couldn't have been the other professors either.

Slytherins from families that had less political influence (and yes she included blood status in that, as mad as that made her) were also crossed off the list, because even if the snakes didn't follow Voldemort, that didn't mean that they would just listen to anyone. So that left her with just the Purebloods and a handful of Half-Bloods left. Something told her this person was a Pureblood, though. As a fellow Pureblood, the Red Dragon would automatically have their peers' respect, and they would be able to negotiate with anyone within the House.

She figured that they also must have a boat load of money at their disposal too, because all of the favors they were doing couldn't be done with mere chump change. Actually, because of that fact, Hermione had once entertained the silly idea that it was Draco behind all this—yes, Draco, of all people. Which she knew was completely ridiculous. Sure, Malfoy had been quiet this semester and she didn't think he was living in Voldemort's pocket anymore, but she doubted he had completely changed his spots. She was pretty sure he would still scream bloody murder if he had to even stand in the same room as a Muggle, so him being the figurehead behind a rebellion to stop Voldemort was a little too far-fetched for her tastes.

_Wonder what Harry would say to that idea?_ she wondered, snorting as she imagined the look on her friend's face, especially after their conversation today.

Hermione looked down at the list of names and fondly crossed out Draco's name one more time. It was no use letting her imagination get carried away.

A whispered "Miss Granger," suddenly came from behind her, causing her to jump in her seat with an undignified yelp. Her quill was dropped, but fortunately for her and her pride, her instincts came to the forefront and her wand was whipped out not even a second after the regrettably instinctual noise.

Snape looked down at her only a foot away, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. His arms were crossed as he eyed her wand indifferently.

"What the hell!" She shrieked, inappropriately, but she didn't care at the moment. That man had possibly just scared ten years off her life.

Surprisingly enough, Professor Snape didn't pounce on the opportunity to destroy Gryffindor's chances for the House Cup. He merely raised a curious eyebrow, choosing to let her little outburst slide for whatever Machiavellian reason of his.

_Probably so he can use it against me later_, Hermione's thoughts grumbled, as she straightened her robes in an annoyed huff. Well, if he wasn't going to bring up a punishment (or even apologize for scaring the spit out of her), then neither would she.

His eyes moved to the notebook in front of her, and she quickly shut it, glaring at him.

"I had called you several times, Miss Granger. You weren't responding."

"I didn't hear anything," she said accusingly, knowing deep down that he had probably done no such thing.

Snape shrugged away the comment, tilting his nose up. "I cannot help it that your hearing is faulty, Miss Granger. Instead of blaming your deficiencies on others, why don't you visit Madame Pomfrey to have yourself checked?"

Her mouth opened to make a smart comeback when he smoothly interrupted her.

"Nevertheless," he said, gliding over to his desk, "I believe that we have an exam to deal with, and we're already behind."

Hermione stiffened minutely. "I was here on time…sir."

Snape continued as if she hadn't said a thing to him. He was composed and completely unaffected. Reaching into his desk, he pulled out a smooth packet and walked over to place it on her desk. His hand rested on the top as he stared at her with a challenge in his eyes, as if he was hoping she would try to say something else. Something cutting or rude, something he could use to cut her down to size, but she wouldn't give him any more ammunition against her.

So, she bit her tongue, swallowing the snide comment she had on the tip of it and with some effort managed to smile sweetly at him. Her cheeks burned from the awkward stretch of her mouth, and a small voice in the back of her head suggested that she probably looked more deranged than happy, but it was entirely worth it to see the professor's small grimace of discomfort.

"You have an hour for your written. Begin," he stated, ending the short battle of wills. He headed back to his desk, sat down and grabbed a leather book, not sparing her a second glance.

She rubbed at her cheeks, as she picked up her test and gave it a cursory glance. It seemed relatively easy, much like her other tests. It seemed a little longer than usual, with more short answer questions, but it was nothing too strenuous. Funny, she could have sworn that Snape would give her a ridiculously hard test just to spite her, but it would appear as if her fears were unfounded.

Well, she certainly wasn't going to complain if the professor wanted to be fair, so she said nothing. Happily, she worked through each question at the same speed that she had with her other exams. Her answers were checked, then rechecked after she finished and she closed the packet with a satisfied sigh.

"Finished, Granger?" Snape asked, looking up from his book. He got up from his desk and walked over to the blackboard.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You can place your exam on my desk," he said pleasantly—too pleasantly, actually.

Hermione paused on her way to the professor, his tone striking several warning bells in her mind, each one screaming at her that danger was on the horizon. She could liken it to the feeling that a deer might get out in the field and that sudden instinct that told it there was a predator nearby, stalking and waiting.

Perhaps she was right, when she thought that the test was too easy. Maybe she should look it over one more time, because the smug grin that the professor was wearing at the moment was practically screaming, 'It's a trap!'

_No, I'm sure that I didn't miss anything. There's no way he could've snuck anything by me…But then, why does he look so bloody pleased with himself? Maybe…he reworded something? Or slipped in another question that I missed. No, I would've caught that. Gah! This is ridiculous! _

"Miss Granger, your test, if you please."

She finally gave over the packet, resisting the urge to snatch it back from him and look over the questions again. Snape put the packet in his drawers before returning to her to stand in front of the blackboard.

"Now, for your practical." With a snap of his fingers the board flipped over revealing the potion, and again, she was confused as she looked at Snape's familiar spidery scrawl.

_Babbler's Cure? But that's so…easy. What is he trying to pull? _

Well, it wasn't necessarily easy. She herself was already brewing this potion by fourth year, but any other sixth year would probably find it a challenge, and that was the thing. It was right at her 'supposed skill' level for her finals. It was a potion that she could easily imagine her other classmates having to deal with at the end of June. So why was he giving it to her? She could have sworn that the practical was where he was going to try and pull a fast one on her. His behavior up until then had certainly implied that he was hiding something from her.

_Or maybe you're making yourself more paranoid than you need to be again. Nothing was wrong with the questions, so why should there be anything wrong with the practical?_

"Problem, Miss Granger?"

"Wha—no, no, I'm fine," she said, shaking her head and walking towards the supply closet in the back. A standard black, pewter cauldron was grabbed and she placed that on a low fire, allowing the cool metal to warm up while she went back to grab the appropriate ingredients from the back.

"Standard ingredient, Bicorn Horn…" she muttered as her fingers quickly picked up several glass vials. When she was finished, she went back to her desk, laying out her supplies in front of her in a neat fashion, then she got to work on grinding up the Bicorn Horn into a fine dust.

She soon found her mind drifting off as she fell into the familiar steps of a potion that she had brewed on more occasions than she could count (especially when Fred and George were still at the school—the Babbling Beverage had been a favorite of theirs). Her hands mechanically floated along and she found her mind wandering, specifically to a particularly confounding Potions Master not too far away from her. She watched as he flipped a page in his book. He looked very relaxed and completely indifferent to the world around him. In a way, seeing him like this, reminded her of her cat Crookshanks, when he got in one of his, "the world is a bothersome fly" moods.

"Is there a reason why you are not paying attention to your potion, Granger?" Snape asked, eyes still on his book. There was a sharpness to his tone that suggested he wasn't amused by her staring. "Perhaps you would like to share what has you so amused."

Hermione bowed her head over her cauldron once more, allowing the purple steam to hide her embarrassed face, and to block him from looking into her eyes. She could just imagine what he would do if he tried to peak into her mind and saw her thinking of him as a cat. _Yeah, that would just go over swell_.

She desperately searched her mind for another topic, and said the first thing that she could think of.

"This potion is for sixth years."

Alright, so it wasn't the most elegant and thought-provoking thing she had ever said before, but at least she had steered the conversation away from the potentially more dangerous land mine of how her professor embodied the virtues of an old cat.

Snape looked at her strangely, and silence grew like a heavy, awkward weight between them. Finally, he said, "Are you not a sixth year?"

"Well, yes, technically I suppose I am. But I was expecting something different for my test," she found herself admitting. Her inability to keep her thoughts sealed tight around this particular man, was something that she had noticed was happening at an alarming frequency. She didn't know exactly why she sought out conversations with him. Maybe it was because doing so, had yet to blow up in her face, and her morbid curiosity drove her to find out just how long she could squeeze these quasi-cordial chit-chats out of him before he tried to strangle her for her impertinence.

"You were expecting something else," he said, knowingly, "something more difficult."

"The thought had crossed my mind that you would try to challenge me in a way my other professors hadn't." She checked her potion as she said this, noticing that the color was the correct shade of lavender and turned off the heat accordingly. With a quick sniff to make sure it had the right fruity scent, she poured a small bit into a clean vial and closed it up. She brought the finished potion up to her professor's desk and placed it in front of him.

Snape looked over her potion impassively, and sniffed at her work. "I have no desire for your presence to grace my classroom next year," he informed her flippantly.

Hermione immediately bristled. "Pardon?"

He smirked at her, rolling the small vial between his fingers. "Granger, you and I both know that you have no talent for the art of potions. You lack the creativity and instinct for the subject and only get by because you follow directions to the letter. If I had given you something truly challenging, you would have failed, and then I would be stuck with you for yet another year. So why would I do that?"

She sputtered, shocked and incensed that he had the gall to spout such preposterous tall-tales, even as a small part of her had a sneaking suspicion that he was probably just trying to rile her up again. Still, even if he said it just to mock her, she wasn't going to just stand by and take it.

"Like hell I would! I'm the best student you have, and you know it!"

His smirk only grew with a taunting edge. "Come now, Granger, denial doesn't become you."

"And lying doesn't become you! You—you—" she struggled to find the right word.

"Careful, Miss Granger. You might want to watch how you speak to a professor," he suggested mildly.

Hermione huffed, crossing her arms as she looked down on his seated form. "Technically speaking, I've now finished all my exams and am no longer your student or a student of this school. So if I wanted to call you a bastard, I could."

His eyes narrowed. "That's true, but that would also mean that since you're no longer a student here I could hex you out of my classroom for the insult…'if I wanted to,'" he said, mimicking her.

The two glared at each other silently, allowing the tension to hang in the air like a heavy cloud. Just like in the Order meeting, Hermione felt a small probe against her Occlumency walls then, like a tentative push trying to find the cracks in her structure.

"That's still not going to work," she snapped. "I don't know why you keep trying."

Snape shrugged unapologetically. The tension dissipating slightly as he leaned back in his chair. "I have not spent the majority of my years fighting this war, to have all of my work uprooted by a witch who's bitten off more than she can chew. You may say that your shields are strong enough to withstand the Dark Lord's might, but you barely have an inkling of what you would be up against."

Grumbling, because Fera had said something similar to her when she would do her routine mind blast, Hermione backed up to lean against his desk. In a way he was right. The information that was in her head could make or break their chances at winning the war. It was sensitive stuff and because of that, her mental defenses had to be impeccable, which meant that sometimes there might be tests. She understood it, but that didn't mean that she had to like it. She said as much to him.

"Would you prefer that I not let my presence be known? I will continue testing you either way," he told her firmly.

She shivered at the thought of someone being in her mind, even on the outer fringes and her not knowing about it. "Fine," she muttered, "but you won't get in."

His black eyes seemed to stare through her, and she had to look away. "That remains to be seen," he responded smoothly.

* * *

**A/N: Finally back in the game. And with some more sniping between Snape and Hermione. Not very romantic I know, but I needed to shift their dynamic first, get out all of the tension and inequality that their old roles created before they could move on. But there is more to come of them soon. **

**Up next: A peek into how meeting with the "Red Dragon" really go down and the return of Fera!**

**As always thanks for reading and remember to review~**


	25. Study Plans and Grey Contracts

**Hello again. Thank you, everyone who left a review and alerted this story! Your support is as always, absolutely amazing! ****And of course a large thank you to my betas, McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe. **

**Hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this one, mostly because of I love writing Blaise and Draco together. ;)**

* * *

**Last Time:**

**"Would you prefer that I not let my presence be known. I will continue testing you either way," he told her firmly.**

**She shivered at the thought of someone being in her mind, even on the outer fringes and her not knowing about it. "Fine," she muttered, "but you won't get in."**

**His black eyes seemed to stare through her, and she had to look away. "That remains to be seen," he responded smoothly.**

* * *

Chapter 24

Over the course of the next day, Hermione found that being free from her classes was just as relaxing as Snape said it would be. Now that she no longer had to worry about classes during the day or tedious homework during the night, she was able to get back to doing what she wanted to do. In fact, that morning she had decided that she was going to sleep in just because she could. Because…well, why not? It wasn't like she had to be anywhere anymore. Gryffindor's house points wouldn't suffer and she wouldn't get in trouble because of it either.

It had felt so good to quiet her alarm clock and bury herself back under the covers that morning. Taking in those extra couple of hours had been heaven. Even though it meant missing the breakfast rush, it was worth it.

But it was more than that. Yes, it was nice to sleep in, and spend most of the day holed up in the library surrounded by books, but what made this new freedom even better was that she felt like she was finally being treated as an adult again. When she had entered the library that morning, Madame Pince hadn't even batted an eyelash at her presence. She hadn't scolded her for not being in class, or asked for a pass, or even snapped at her about the proper code of conduct for handling her books. The librarian had just nodded to her as she passed by.

Passing the professors in the hallway was a similar experience. She had received cordial greetings, and surprisingly a couple of invites for afternoon tea in the teacher's lounge. Now that she was no longer a student and they knew that she was well over twenty, her old teachers felt it perfectly acceptable to welcome her into their circle.

It was amazing really, how something so inconsequential as just being treated like a proper adult could put such a bounce back into her step and ease her mind. Snape and been right. All she had to do was finish her exams and eventually everything smoothed out.

So, she was in a decidedly chipper mood that night when she went down for dinner. Having missed both breakfast and lunch, she figured her friends would probably like to see that she was still alive and not buried under a pile of books. Plus she wanted to talk with Snape about contacting Fera again so that she could dive back into her research. She had made such good progress today that she didn't want to stop her momentum.

As she took her usual seat between Harry and Ron, Neville greeted her. "Hey, Hermione. We missed you in class today."

Hermione smiled at him, imagining he must have really missed her during Potions. With her gone, he would have had to deal with Snape on his own. She almost felt bad for leaving him now.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I finished my Potions exam last night, so I'm officially done with that class," she said. "Actually, I'm officially done with all my classes. I can concentrate on just my NEWTs now."

"Ugh, your so lucky," Ron grumbled. "I would give my left foot to drop potions."

"I didn't drop it Ron, I tested out of it," she reminded him.

"You're still lucky you don't have to deal with that Git anymore. I swear he was an absolute nightmare today."

Hermione looked around the table. "Was he?"

Harry reluctantly nodded. "He wasn't the worst, but something must have made him mad 'cause he was sniping at everyone. I think we lost like fifty points today."

"Really?" Ginny asked, looking down the table at Harry. "He was no worse than usual for my class. I mean, he took like twenty points off when Sarah burned a hole in the floor, but that's to be expected."

"That's weird…" Hermione murmured, peering over at the teacher's table and locating Snape. He certainly didn't look all that angry. Grumpy, yes, but as Ginny said, that was to be expected.

She wondered what could have made him so testy. She didn't want to wait until tomorrow to talk to him about doing an Astral Projection, but maybe she should. She didn't want him to refuse her just because he was having a bad day.

She decided that she would just have to play it by ear.

"I think it may have been because I dropped a vial of Ashweed in the storeroom," Neville admitted, glumly. "I swear the minute I step into that class, I'm a bumbling idiot."

"That's just nerves, not idiocy," Hermione told him. "It'll get better."

Neville laughed weakly. "Really, when? It's nearly the end of the semester…I've been taking potions for six years now and I can still barely handle a ladle right. I don't know what I'm going to do next year."

Hermione didn't know what to say about that. She herself worried about the clumsy Gryffindor's chances in NEWTs Potions as well. As much as she wanted to reassure him that everything would be alright, she couldn't. Because Potions was the one class that he had yet to improve in and she didn't know if he would ever get better with it. What if it just wasn't his subject?

"Well, you'll be done with Potions soon. At least until next year," she finally said.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Actually that reminds me, Hermione. I know you're not in the class anymore but would you mind going over the study schedule you made for me? I want to at least try to finish the year well."

"Oh, have you looked it over already then?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to make sure that I cover all my bases for finals."

"Why are you pulling out your study sheet so soon?" Ron asked. "Finals are like a month away."

Hermione's eyes rolled. Leave it to Ron to wait until the very last minute. "Finals are two weeks away, Ronald. Not a month away.".

"Since when?" The redhead paled.

Ginny smirked sarcastically. "Since last week ended."

Her brother threw a bit of bread at her in retaliation. "Shut up. You know what I mean."

"Since we only have three weekends to study, I wanted to use this weekend to get everything together," Neville told them. "Besides, next week is our last Hogsmeade trip, and it'll be impossible to get anything done then."

"Actually, that's a good idea, Neville," Harry said. "Would you mind going over a study plan with me too, Hermione?"

"Oh! We can make a study group out of it," Ginny added. "Let's do it."

"You're not even in our year," Ron pointed pointed out.

"So, I could still use some help."

"I'm sure we can help you for your exam too, Gin," Harry said kindly.

"But it's Friday! Can't this wait until Monday? Whoever heard of doing work on the weekends?" Ron groaned dramatically.

Ginny hit his shoulder. "Stop complaining. Your Lav-Lav will be fine without you for a little bit. You can suck her face off once you've finished studying."

Ron turned a beet red and snuck a discreet look towards Hermione. "Shut up, Gin," he hissed.

Hermione watched the exchange with amusement. She recalled Harry saying something about Ron having a crush on Lavender a while back but she hadn't seen any evidence of it until now. Though she wasn't sure what the whole "Lav-Lav" thing was about…nor did she want to know really.

_Well, _she internally shrugged, _at least he's not thinking about me in that way anymore. _

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure in black robes get up from the Head Table and leave the Great Hall. She tilted her head only slightly and watched him walk down the aisle between the Slytherin and Gryffindor table and towards the exit. She didn't know if he could sense when someone was looking at him, but all of a sudden, Snape looked her way and their eyes meet.

She didn't squelch the opportunity and discreetly motioned towards the door. His stared blankly at her then turned and kept walking. Not sure, if he had received her message. Hermione began to gather her things in order to race after him.

"Actually, I won't be able to do a study group tonight. I have to stop by Professor McGonagall's office and go over our plans for this summer," she lied. She felt slightly guilty about it, but it wasn't like she could blurt out that she was doing Order work tonight in a crowded room. She would just have to clue them in later on when they were alone. "How about we meet up tomorrow?"

"That's sounds fine to me," Ginny said, and the others agreed.

"Brilliant, thanks, Hermione." Neville smiled brightly at her, the relief was clear on his face.

"Not a problem. I'll see you guys later," she called, waving back to them as she left the Great Hall. She thought she faintly heard Harry say something about leaving as well but paid her best friend no mind. Her mind was already focused on her new mission. The minute she was out in the hallway, she took off after Snape, hoping that she would catch him before he disappeared somewhere.

She spotted a fluttering black robe turning a corner and quickly ran after it, but when she made it to the corner, the professor was no where in sight.

"Where…?" she whispered, looking around the stone corridor. _How the Hell did he vanish so quick?_

Just as she was about to head back and start looking elsewhere, a hand shot out, grabbed her arm and yanked her into a dark alcove. Black eyes stared down at her in exasperation, and she immediately relaxed.

She snatched her arm back and rubbed at her abused bicep. "Why does it seem like your mission in life is to scare me into an early grave?"

"Why were you running down the hall like you were half-mad?" he countered, stepping back to give her space. Waving his wand, he put up a Privacy Charm around them.

"I was trying to catch up with you, so I could talk to you," she replied defensively.

"Need I remind you, Granger, that you know where my office and rooms are."

"I can't just show up at your office anymore. I'm not your student. It might raise questions if I was seen," she explained.

"And running after me like a demented fool is your way of being more subtle?" he asked incredulously.

Hermione's cheeks pinked and she ducked her head. She crossed her arms defensively in front of her. "Well, I didn't say it was my smartest move."

"Clearly."

"Oh, shut it! I wasn't thinking, okay?" she said, then flinched when she realized she had just told _Severus Snape_ to shut up as if he were one of her buddies. She kept talking, hoping he hadn't caught it, but by the look of murderous intent in his eyes, she knew that that was a pipe dream. "In any case, I needed to talk to you about something," she finished.

"So I gathered," he snarked, waving his hand at the alcove they were in. "Now, get to the point. I'm a busy man and my plans for tonight didn't include irritating witches."

Hermione scowled but didn't reply to the insult. "Now that I have the time, I need to get back to my research. But before I start I wanted to touch base with Fera first, which I can't do without the ingredients to complete an Astral projection."

"And?"

She sighed. Of course, he wasn't going to be a gentleman about this. "**And**, since I know you have what I need. I was wondering if you would be willing to lend them to me."

He leaned against the wall, the picture of ease. "Lending, implies that you intend to give them back, and I have no need for used ingredients."

"You know what I meant. I'll repay you for whatever I use," she responded a little sharply.

Snape looked at her curiously. "Why not just ask the Headmaster? He would have gotten the ingredients for you."

"I know, but they would have most likely come from you anyway. So I figured I might as well cut out the middle man. Plus, I wanted to make sure you knew that I wasn't going to invade your storeroom and ransack the place."

Snape left the alcove without a word, and Hermione deflated against the wall, sure that his silent exit was just his way of saying, "no." She wondered if she had said something to offend the prickly man.

A second later, Snape came back, his customary scowl in place. "Hurry up, Granger. I haven't got all night," he told her and then began to head back down the hall.

Hermione scrambled after him, unable to stop the goofy smile from spreading on her face.

* * *

Harry crept down the hallway, a good pace away from his blond-haired target. Without his cloak he was going to have to be extra careful not to be seen, which meant keeping a good amount of distance between him and Malfoy. Already though, he was cursing his lack of foresight, as Malfoy got further and further away from him. He wished he had his cloak on him. It would have made this so much easier.

Harry stopped abruptly, pressing his back against the column he was hiding behind, as Draco came to a halt in front of an old tapestry. The Slytherin looked down the hallway surreptitiously, then waved his wand at the tapestry. It fluttered aside and a door revealed itself. Malfoy pushed it open, the creaking sound echoing down the hall, then he stepped inside. The door shut with a resounding thud.

Tiptoeing over, Harry checked the tapestry over, running his fingers along the worn colored threads. Shifting it to the side, he peered underneath it, only to be greeted by a stone wall. He pressed his hand against the wall in confusion. Magic tickled at his fingers, but that was it.

Where was the door?

Was there a latch that he had somehow missed. Or a spell? Malfoy had waved his wand at the tapestry first, maybe the door was concealed with a charm. Harry took out his wand and tried out several spells, even stooping to using "Alohomora" to no avail. Whatever Draco had used to get inside it wasn't an everyday spell taught in charms. Even more proof to Harry that the ferret was up to no good.

He glared at the tapestry in frustration. _I bet Hermione would know how to get inside, _he thought.

He could ask her, but then that would just get him another lecture on how Malfoy had 'changed' and how he should give the junior Death Eater a chance. Yeah right. The minute he gave the ferret a chance that snake would turn around and stab him in the back. Draco was a Malfoy and if there was one thing that Harry had learned since coming to the Wizarding World, it was that Malfoys couldn't be trusted.

He was just going have to convince Hermione to see reason. Maybe she would believe him if he told her about the disappearing door. There was no way she would be able to dismiss that as nothing.

Mind made up, Harry headed back to his dorm. He might not have discovered Draco's plot but it was only a matter of time before he did.

* * *

The minute the door closed behind him, Draco unhooked his robes and hung them on the coat rack by the fireplace. He looked around the room, proud of the transformation of this once shabby spare room into a respectable bit of space. Before he had gotten his hands on it, it had been covered in dust and cobwebs, with broken furniture stuffed into the corners. Now the room sparkled. Dark green drapes covered the windows, a lush black and silver rug covered the floor, a fireplace (small but elegant) was the focal point of the back wall and a simple dark oak table and chairs were placed in front of it. The decor wasn't as opulent as he wanted it to be (Blaise had curtailed most of his design choices), but he was happy to note that the room still telegraphed, "ostentatious business is being done here," loud and clear. And that was what mattered.

"You're late," Blaise said, from his spot by one of the windows. The other Slytherin had pushed the drapes open slightly to let in some natural moonlight. It lent a certain ambiance to the room that firelight couldn't provide.

"I'm not late. Our guests have yet to arrive."

"And you were followed."

Draco smirked. "Yes, and they must have been a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff. I could hear their breathing all the way down the hall, and they didn't even try to disillusion themselves."

Interest piqued, Blaise turned from the window. "Did you see who?"

Draco shook his head. "Nope, they were too far away. I only caught a glimpse of their robes. In any case I wouldn't be too worried about it. If they don't even know how to sneak around properly they won't be able to break in here."

"Or so you hope. I still think you should practice more caution," Blaise replied.

"I **want** people to see me sneaking around. You know I'm still being watched by the Dark Lord's people. If I still look like I'm trying to spy for my father, then I'll stay under his radar."

"No never mind that all your 'sneaking around' is to disrupt the Dark Lord's plans and not aid them."

"What the Dark Lord doesn't know, won't hurt him. Or hopefully it will," Draco quipped.

Blaise motioned towards the table and the two took a seat. As usual, Blaise had arranged for a tea tray to be brought, so Draco took it upon himself to pour himself a cup while they waited. He picked up the one nearest to him, and carefully looked it over before preparing his tea with the appropriate amounts of milk and sugar.

"Who are we waiting for today?" Draco asked, nursing the hot cup in his hands.

Three knocks sounded on the door before Blaise had the chance to reply. "Evidently, you're about to find out."

In a practiced move the two Slytherins covered the room in a thick fog, obscuring their features. Draco flicked his wand towards the door, and it opened for their guests.

"Hello?" a high female voice called hesitantly. Her hands were in front of her, one was pointing her wand towards the fog and the other was furtively trying to feel around for something solid to grab onto. If Draco wasn't mistaken, that voice belonged to Rebecca Listern, a fifth year Ravenclaw.

"I can't see a thing," another voice whispered behind the first. This one was male and sounded a bit younger.

_Sounds like her cousin Samuel…what was he a fourth or fifth year?_

"Neither can I. Stay close to me," the Rebecca ordered him.

Placing his wand to his throat and quietly muttering a charm, Draco finally opened his mouth. When he spoke his voice came out lower and rougher, as if he had pebbles lodged into his throat. It was nothing like his usual suave, rich accent, but then again, that was the point.

"Come in."

The two students shuffled forward, just as Blaise flicked his wand, shutting the door behind them. Light sealed around the edges of the door the minute it closed again. With the wards back up, the two students wouldn't be able to escape without either his or Blaise's permission. It was a good precaution to have just in case things went south.

When Draco finally deemed it safe enough to lift the fog, he raised his wand to the sealing. Whispering a simple wind charm, the fog was whisked from the room and out of the window.

"Rebecca, Samuel, how lovely of you to come visit us," Draco greeted them with a solicitous flair that would have impressed even his father.

"Please, come and sit." Blaise motioned towards the table. "Tea?"

The two Ravenclaws cautiously lowered themselves into the available seats, not even bothering to hide their confusion. Blaise began preparing their cups.

"Wait, so you and Blaise are working for Red Dragon?" Rebecca asked directly, nodding her head in thanks as she accepted the tea offered to her, and took a small sip.

Draco shot an exasperated look at his partner, who was preening at the mention of his beloved name. Red Dragon, their new brand, and Blaise's pride and joy. Really, when Draco had told him to think up a name for them, he didn't think his friend would actually go through with it. He had only been half joking at the time.

Well, what was done was done. The Red Dragon's deeds were already spreading throughout Hogwarts' walls and beyond. It had become an important symbol for their rebellion (he knew because Blaise wouldn't shut up about it), so there was no changing it now.

"Oh Merlin no," Blaise responded, pouring and handing Samuel a cup as well. "We aren't a part of Red Dragon. We **are** Red Dragon."

The look on the two students faces was comical, as they choked on their tea and sputtered in surprise.

"**You **are Red Dragon? You're the ones responsible for helping all the students escape Vol-You-Know-Who?" Samuel asked in disbelief.

"You say that as if it were impossible," Blaise responded.

Rebecca glanced between the two Slytherins, finally landing on Draco. "But your father is a Death Eater. And you hate Muggle-borns. Why would you be trying to stop You-Know-Who?"

The desire to bang his head against the table surged up within the blond wizard, as it did every time someone brought up his confounded father during these meetings (and they always did, because apparently his relationship with his father was everyone's bloody business). It was only his years of practicing at casual indifference that kept him from making a nice, Draco-sized face print on the table's surface. His smile, though plainly insincere, was at least still in place.

"Please," he said tightly, "let's not focus on unrelated topics. You've tracked us down so that you could get help, not to ask useless questions. Correct?"

"Yes, we have. I apologize," Rebecca offered, scratching at the table's wood awkwardly.

"Of course. No harm done—but back to business. Before we can begin, we do need to complete a brief test for security purposes."

"Test? What sort of test?" Samuel questioned, gripping his cup tightly.

Draco raised his hands. "There's nothing to be worried about. We won't ask a lot of you, we just need you to answer a few questions." He motioned for Blaise to take over.

"Right," Blaise began, "we'll only be asking three questions, so please answer as honestly as possible. Now the first one; when was the last time you were kissed? And with whom was it?"

"Last night with Bobby Fishmer," Samuel squeaked out, then threw his hand over his mouth. His face turned a fiery red.

Not even a second later, Rebecca blurted out, "A week ago with Rory from Hufflepuff." The two Ravenclaws shared equal looks of embarrassed horror. Rebecca was the first to grab her cup of tea and sniff at the liquid inside, she glared at the two Slytherin boys. "What did you put in the tea?"

"The tea? Nothing. However we did lace the rim of your cups with a strong dose of Veritaserum," Blaise explained nonchalantly.

"You drugged us?!"

"That's a tad dramatic, but yes, we did. And it appears as if it's working. I don't think any further practice questions are needed. Do you, Draco?"

"No, I'm satisfied."

"Why did you drug us?" Rebecca asked through gritted teeth.

Draco was the one to answer her. "What we do is extremely dangerous work. Our actions, in helping others escape the Dark Lord have painted a rather large target on our backs. For now, the Dark Lord doesn't know who we are specifically. Just that there is a vigilante group called Red Dragon that is defying him. In order to maintain our anonymity certain precautions need to be put in place, such as—" he pointed to the tea cups "—checking for spies."

"Which brings us to our real question." Blaise stepped in. "Are you spying for the Dark Lord, Voldemort, or any of his followers and/or supporters?"

There was only the smallest pause before the two cousins answered, "no," in unison. Their hands clasped on the table in relief afterward.

"Good. Now, the Veritaserum should wear off in about an hour. For the remainder of that time, neither Draco nor I will ask any invasive questions that do not immediately relate to your predicament. We only gave the potion to you for safety reasons not for our amusement."

"Thank you." Rebecca exhaled.

"You're welcome. Now, tell us what seems to be the problem."

"Well," Rebecca started, after being nudged by her cousin, "we're actually not here for ourselves. You see, my older brother, Jackson—he's three years ahead of me, and he recently got engaged to Samantha Blishwick."

"She was in Slytherin, graduated two years ago," Draco affirmed.

Rebecca nodded. "Exactly. She's a real sweet girl, everyone in my family loves her, but her own family isn't too happy about the match. It turns out that her parents had already set her up with Marcus Flint."

"Marcus was initiated into the Dark Lord's ranks last summer," Draco sighed, finally catching on to the trouble.

Rebecca and Samuel exchanged worried looks. "We had heard rumors of course, but we weren't sure until…well, until my brother was attacked three nights ago by Death Eaters."

Blaise leaned forward now. "He was the shop worker the Daily Prophet was talking about, wasn't he? They were saying they were unsure if he had survived."

"Oh he survived," Rebecca laughed humorlessly, "He's recovering slowly at St. Murgo's now. But I know that this isn't going to be the end of it. They'll keep coming, and eventually they'll kill him and I—" she choked on her tears, unable to finish.

Samuel took over for her while she cried into the handkerchief Blaise handed her. "Samantha hates Marcus and knows that he'll make her life a living hell now that she's 'embarrassed' him by publicly choosing a Half-Blood over him, but if it means keeping Jackson alive, she's already said she'll go through with the marriage…I don't think it'll be that simple."

"It won't," Blaise confirmed, "Marcus was more brawn then he ever was brain, but he follows the words of his father like they are gospel, and Bernard is not a nice man. He was insane even before he was thrown in Azkaban. He'll demand retribution for the insult to his family and that will most likely come in the form of your brother's life or your whole families' lives."

Rebecca whimpered into the handkerchief and Samuel pulled her into his side. He looked completely defeated. "Yeah," he said, "we were afraid of something like that."

"Well don't start crying yet. We haven't even gone over your options yet," Draco commented drily as he poured them both more tea.

"Draco's right," Blaise agreed, "though it looks bad now, there are some things we can do for you to protect your family."

"My brother won't want to move though. He's convinced that talking to the Headmaster will make everything better. He wants to join some Order thing, but I don't even know what that is!" Rebecca exclaimed.

Draco internally groaned. _Another one wants to go to Dumbledore. Just great. I'm getting sick and tired of that old man horning in on my action._

Aloud he said, "While that is commendable of your brother, that wouldn't necessarily fix your situation. Not completely. Your family needs protection, protection that we can give you."

"We have safe houses in China, Japan, Egypt, Spain, Canada and America available right now," Blaise said, pulling out two thick packets. "Where would you prefer?"

"Well, America or Canada I guess. The farther away the better. But my family isn't going to want to move. We live with our grandmother and she's dead set on standing her ground. She says she won't let, 'those silly criminals push her out of her own country'," Rebecca replied tiredly. "She's so stubborn. Her and my brother."

"Yes, well I've heard of Lady Listern's legendary…tenacity. It's amazing that she was never sorted into Gryffindor."

Rebecca chuckled. "Ha, aint that the truth."

Blaise folded his hands under his chin. "But if you don't want to move, we can't force you. There are other ways to protect you, but they aren't as secure as being put into hiding."

"What are they?" Samuel asked.

"We can place a Fedelias Charm and stronger blood wards on your property. If we do this, I'll have to insist you all move into one abode," Draco said. "Do you have any properties in England that are large enough for your whole family?"

"Grandma's old manor is big enough, but it's kind of run down by now."

Blaise waved her concerns away. "Don't worry about that. I'll have a man take a glance at the property to assess it and we'll go from there. Samantha will also have to be brought into the family as quickly as possible so the blood wards will accept her. That means that she might have to forgo a proper wedding."

"Samantha won't care about that," Rebecca declared confidently. "She just wants to be with my brother and left alone."

"Very well, we'll make sure that the house is livable by that time then. It'll take us about two to three weeks to repair the house, so make sure they're married by that time."

"What should we do in the meantime? What if Jackson's attacked again before you're finished?"

"We'll be giving you all emergency portkeys that will transport you to a safer location should you ever be ambushed. We'll also place a guard in your brother's room to watch over him while he recovers. Where is Samantha and Lady Listern now?" Draco inquired.

"They're both in my Grandma's townhouse in London. She has some wards on the place, but they aren't that good."

"Very well, we'll have them moved to a more secure location—in England mind you—until your home is ready. As for you two, you're going to have to stay put in the school where it's safest. That means you'll probably have to skip the Hogsmeade trip next week."

The two cousins looked slightly put out by this, but they knew that there really was no other way. Their lives were worth more than a couple of Weasley products and a bag of Honeydukes toffy. "Alright," they said.

"Good. We'll flesh out more plans for your protection later on, but for now," Draco took the two packets from Blaise and slid them in front of the Ravenclaws, "these are for you to sign."

"We have to sign something?" Samuel asked.

"It's just a formality to ensure both your protection and ours. Nothing to worry about."

"Why does it feel…odd." Rebecca touched her contract with her wand and sparks immediately shot from the tip.

Blaise looked unconcerned as he answered, "Oh that's just the curse."

Her hand jumped back instantly. "You want us to sign a **cursed** object. Are you out of your mind?! There's no telling what it'll do to us."

"If you go back on your word, it will erase the memories of Red Dragon from your mind, stop you from so much as even uttering our names and alert Draco and I of your betrayal. See, no big mystery. If you don't try to betray us nothing will happen. You do, however, and you'll regret it." The look he sent them was filled with malicious promise and it had the cousins looking at the papers in front of them with trepidation.

Draco discreetly stomped on Blaise's foot under the table. "You have to understand our position. We have a lot of people relying on us and if something were to happen to us, that trouble would inevitably reach them. To make sure that everyone is as safe as possible certain actions need to be taken. We can't just blindly trust everyone who walks through our doors."

Blaise cleared his throat. "Yes, and feel free to look over the contract with a fine-toothed comb. We want to help you, not swindle you."

The two did just that, bending over the contract and moving through it at an agonizing pace. Draco and Blaise got up from the table to give them privacy and waited by the fireplace.

After about twenty minutes, Rebecca finally lifted her head. "What's this clause here that talks about performing a 'favor'."

"Ah." Blaise walked back to the table. "That's just asking you to be available if we should ever call on you. The 'favor' in question won't be anything too strenuous or devious. It's just if we need to hide someone else but don't have a safe house for them yet, for example. As a favor, we would ask you to house them until we could work something else out. We would never ask for something you were unable or unwillingly to do, as we've noted in the fine print under that clause."

"Alright," she said, "I'll sign."

"Me too," Samuel added.

"Wonderful," Blaise voiced, while pulling out a small pocket knife and switching it open. "The actual signing process is rather simple. We just need to prick your finger and then release a small drop of blood on the dotted line."

"But that's dark magic," Samuel remarked.

"I would say it was more grey than dark, actually. And unfortunately it is completely necessary if you wish to proceed."

Rebecca eyed the small knife warily. "Just out of curiosity, what would happen if we didn't sign the contract."

Blaise continued smiling but there was an edge to his smile now. "It would be like this never happened at all. For us, metaphorically, but for you two, quite literally. Your memories would be wiped before you even reached the door."

"Oh."

"But don't worry. We have yet to implement that protocol yet," Draco lied smoothly. "It really is just a formality to protect our other clients. You understand."

"Yeah, I guess." Rebecca held out her hand.

"Good. Now, stay still. This will sting only a little bit," Blaise instructed her, as he quickly pricked her finger and then pressed it down onto the paper. The contract trembled as the curse activated. In the blink of an eye, it disappeared, turning into a swirl of purple smoke that rose into the air, and flew into Rebecca's nostrils and mouth on her next inhale.

A shudder rippled through her body as she leaned back against her chair, tired and dazed. "What was that?" she asked.

"Your contract sealing itself. Don't worry, the side effects don't last long, just sit back and relax. Samuel, it's your turn." Blaise raised the knife expectantly.

The process was quickly repeated, and as soon as they were feeling better, the cousins left the room to head off to bed. The room was rather quiet after their departure.

"Well, that went rather well," Draco said, taking a seat baby the fire.

"Hmm…that's around thirty-five people we now have under our protection. Our influence is growing," Blaise said, staring into the fire quietly.

"It could get sloppy, if we don't watch ourselves."

"We will. My only issue is with the next phase of our plan," Blaise muttered.

Draco smirked at him. "Worried it won't work?"

"Oh it'll work. It's just what will happen afterward that I'm unsure about," his friend admitted.

"Well, we'll find out next weekend, won't we?" Draco took a sip of his tea, grimacing at the, by now, cold liquid.

Blaise looked up with a secretive grin, anticipation coiling in his every nerve. "Yes, yes we will."

* * *

**Up Next: Fera and Snape meet for the first time! **

**As always, please review~**


	26. Tether Lines and Rocky Introductions

**To Sobela: Holy crap! thanks for all the reviews! Because of that, I decided to speed up this chapter so you didn't have to wait so long. Hope you like it!**

**Also to Asma4life, as promised, Fera is back. So sorry for the wait (TT_TT)**

**Thank you to everyone else for the reviews and follows. They were so awesome to see! And of course thank you to my betas, McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe.**

**Ok, here's the next chapter. Hope you like it!**

* * *

**Last time:**

**A second later, Snape came back, his customary scowl in place. "Hurry up, Granger. I haven't got all night," he told her and then began to head back down the hall.**

**Hermione scrambled after him, unable to stop the goofy smile from spreading on her face.**

* * *

Chapter 25

Snape lead Hermione into his office. Unlocking a cabinet, he took out a wooden jug that was corked shut. With the jug secured safely in his robes, he turned to the fireplace, whispering the password that would open and enlarge the Floo.

He stepped inside and looked pointedly at her. "Get in. We're going to Headquarters."

"Why are we going there?" she asked, even as she did as she was told. The size of the Floo, though larger now, was still a little tight, so she had to tuck herself in close to the professor to fit properly. His pleasant scent of herbs and aftershave surrounded her. Snape immediately inched himself away with a frown.

Green flames rose to cover them in a bright flash, and transport them away. They landed with a thud and Hermione stumbled forward, coughing up soot and dust. It was only the sure grip on her arm that kept her from falling on her face. A cleaning charm wrapped around her, eliminating the grime. She smiled at the man responsible in gratitude. "Thank you, Professor."

His frown deepened, and he instantly dropped his hand from around her arm to walk away.

"How rude," she muttered, following after him. What had she done wrong this time? All she had said was thank you. How could the irritable wizard take offense to a little show of gratitude?

But trying to decipher Snape's thought processes would be utterly impossible, so Hermione let the matter drop. There was no point in thinking herself in circles. Though, she did wish that the wizard would make up his mind. He was constantly see-sawing with her, as if he didn't know how he wanted to treat her. One moment he would be his usual grumpy-self, then the next, he would be somewhat approachable, and then in the blink of an eye he would be back to being snappish and growly.

She wondered if his temperament was always so mercurial, or if it was just her.

"Granger!" The man in question called from around a corner.

Startled from her woolgathering, Hermione picked up her pace.

Snape ended up taking her down to the basement where a decent sized Potions lab had been put together. It was quite the room, far nicer then the Potions classroom back at Hogwarts. The equipment looked well taken care of instead of dented and used. Everything was meticulously organized, tucked away neatly and out of the way. Even the floors looked as if they were scrubbed to within an inch of their life.

She hummed in appreciation. What she wouldn't do to have a place like this for herself...

"It's a wonderful lab, but why didn't we just stay at Hogwarts?" she asked him.

"I'm unsure how long this will take us, and as you said, you can't be seen traipsing to and from the dungeon. Especially at night." Snape took out a wooden bowl and the jug he had stowed away, placing them both on the floor.

"Why would I be staying in the dungeons? Or here? I just need the right supplies and then I can get out of your hair."

"It is inadvisable to attempt an Astral Projection in an insecure location. We will use these rooms."

"Well, thank you, I—what are you doing?" She gaped at him as he began taking off his outer robes and frock coat.

Snape sighed in irritation, and he continued rolling up his white shirt sleeves. "I would think that would be obvious, Granger, considering we were just talking about doing an Astral Projection."

"Yes, but I didn't mean that I wanted you to do it for me. I can do it myself, there's no need for you to extend yourself, sir."

"Your wants are irrelevant in this situation. Not only are you using my supplies, but you are also under my protection."

Hermione crossed her arms, her confusion quickly morphing to anger. "I'm not your student anymore, Professor. I'll be just fine on my own. I've done this before."

Snape paused to sneer at her. "You might have fiddled with the Astral realm before, Granger, but you aren't an expert on it."

"I know enough to keep myself safe. I'm not an idiot."

"So you've managed to successfully travel across the different planes before? You already know how to magically track someone else down?" he asked sarcastically.

"I know the theory behind it." She shifted on her feet.

Snape scoffed at her. "Forever the Know-It-All, believing that words from a book are all you need."

"There's nothing wrong with my books!"

"Depending on just 'thoeries' when it comes to magic is the highest form of idiocy," he said harshly. "And it is the fastest way to get you blown up."

She sneered back. "I didn't think you cared."

"I don't. But the Headmaster does and it would be my head on the line if something were to happen to you. So throw a tantrum all you want, Granger, but you're not doing this alone."

Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself.

_Let_ _Snape have his way and get to Fera? Or save my pride and be back at square one?_ Really, there was only one option for her. She wasn't going to chop off her nose just to spite her face. She needed Snape's help, a fact the insufferable man knew, so she was going to have to comply with his wishes. Even if she had to to suppress the urge to stab him in his face (repeatedly), while doing so.

She stomped over to the bowl and jug and sat herself down in front of them. Her robes were yanked off and thrown to the side. She looked over her shoulder only slightly to bark out, "are you coming?" before turning back. It was a bit rude of her and her parents would probably be horrified with her manners towards her ex-teacher, but as childish as it sounded—he had started it.

On silent feet, Snape walked over to her and easily sat down in front of her. He at least had the grace to ignore her temper in favor of stoically focusing on the task at hand.

"Don't we have to make the herbal mix first?" she sniped.

"I have some left over from when I visited you," he told her and uncorking the jug, he poured said mixture into the wooden bowl. "Do you have the hair?"

She took at a small piece of Fera's hair from the sealed Ziplock she kept in her bag, and handed it to him.

Snape cut his palm with a small knife, then gripped the blond locks in his wounded palm, staining them red. Hermione made her cut next, and clenched her cut hand above the hair so her blood could mingle with Snape's. When the mixture was lit on fire, Snape dropped the bloody clump of hair in, then magically sealed and cleaned their palms.

"Clear your mind," he ordered. His eyes were already closed. "Are you ready, Granger?"

"I'm ready."

"Follow my lead, and stay close," he said then began the incantation. Hesitating only a second as she tried to remember the next line, she jumped in adding her voice to his.

Smoke rose up around the two and Hermione felt that familiar freezing wind steal through her body. A weightlessness took over her and her spirit form began to rise up from her body.

She had almost forgotten what it felt like to separate from her physical body. It was freedom, lightness, euphoric even.

"Stay close to me"_, _Snape whispered by her side. He was once more surrounded by the deep red glow, just as she was covered in her own orange/yellow light. A tether of solid red magic seeped from him, wrapping around her like a rope.

"What's this?" She poked at the line and her finger phased through it like water.

"It will allow me to steer you as we travel and stop you from drifting off." He began to rise up into the dark starry sky above them. The red rope tightened around Hermione and she began to rise with him. A pop sounded, as if they bursted through a bubble and then they were off.

The speeds with which they traveled across the Astral plane were disorienting, setting her mind to a dizzying spin, and turning her stomach to clenching knots. Trying to look around and observe her surroundings was just as bad, if not worse, since it made her head throb painfully. She ended up just closing her eyes, praying that it would be all over soon.

She leaned into the magical cord around her, her body going limp. She was miserable, her head hurt, and she knew the minute they touched down she was going to hurl. Now, she could admit that she was also extremely glad and relieved that Snape had demanded to tag along. Without him here, she knew she would have been overwhelmed within the first few seconds of her voyage and lost to the yawning depths of this ever-expanding plane. It might hurt her pride, but she would definitely have to thank him for his pushiness later on.

A small eternity later, they finally landed. Snape's feet gracefully floated down onto the sandy shore of the imitation Black Lake first. Not even a second behind him, Hermione landed with a thump to her knees. As she had predicted, the minute her mind processed that she had stopped moving, she began to dry heave and gasp for breath. She didn't doubt that had she been in procession of her real body, she would have been emptying the contents of her stomach all over this fake lakeshore.

Snape, curse him, looked as if he didn't even have a hair out of place. _Bastard. _At least he kept quiet, giving her time to pull herself together and struggle back to her feet. Of course he didn't offer her a hand.

Dusting herself off, she took a wobbly step up to his side.

"Look over there," he told her, pointing to a bright colorful blob further down the shore. Her eyes squinted, but couldn't make anything out.

"I can't see anything."

"Come."

He began briskly walking down the shore towards the blob, and as they got closer, said colorful blob, turned into the blurry figure of a blond woman in blue robes, kneeling in the sand, drawing in the sand with a stick. She too was glowing, though Hermione couldn't get a good look at the colors of her aura yet.

"Fera," Hermione whispered, excitement bubbled up within her. She picked up her pace, eager to reunite with her friend.

"Fera," she repeated a little louder, but the blond witch didn't look up. Fera continued with her task, scratching out what looked like arithmancy equations into the sand.

Hermione stepped a little closer to get a look at her friend's work. The witch was practically surrounded with number lines and runes, drawn in tight circles that radiated outward. There were six, maybe eight feet of curving equations separating the two of them.

"Fera," she tried again to get her attention, but was promptly shushed. Hermione sighed, then looked back at her professor who was watching them with interest. She motioned towards a large boulder not to far away.

"Come on. Let's go wait for her to finish over there."

Snape crossed his arms in disapproval. "Miss Granger, we don't have time to wait for your friend to finish drawing in the sand like a three year old. We can't linger here."

"Look," Hermione replied, "I know we have limited time, but there is no talking to Fera when she gets like this. We're just going to have to wait it out, and hope that she comes up for air soon."

"You are her friend, are you not? Just explain that we can't wait around for her."

"I already told you, she won't hear me. She stuck in her head right now. Nothing short of her dying will distract her, and even then, I'm sure she'd come back as a ghost just so she could finish." Hermione took a seat on the boulder, laying on her back so she could stare at the twinkling black sky above her.

After a moment she lifted her head. "Coming?" she asked him, patting the empty spot next to her. "She should be finished in a little bit." She dropped her head back down, not looking to see if Snape would take her advice. She wasn't going to worry about it. Either he would or he wouldn't. It was his choice.

There was movement to her left, and she could see a white shirt out of the corner of her eye. She smiled to herself.

"How long do these bouts usually last?" he asked gruffly.

"Depends." She shrugged. "Sometimes only minutes, sometimes for days—"

"DAYS—"

Hermione held up her hands. "I don't think this one will take that long. Do you see that line of runes over there?" She pointed to a set of runes a little further from the number lines. "She usually doesn't add in runes unless she's coming to a conclusion of some sort. So she should be done shortly."

"So you say."

"So I **know**," she bluffed. The truth was, she had no idea when Fera would be done. The woman was entirely unpredictable, but something told her that letting that fact slip to her professor would lead to a nasty confrontation that Hermione wanted to avoid.

She was hoping the two would at least partially get along. If all went according to plan Snape would be working with her on the Reservoir stone, but first Fera had to approve of him and that wouldn't happen if the two tried to hex each other into oblivion.

The minutes ticked by slowly, punctuated occasionally by Fera's obscure mutterings. Hermione could tell that her professor was quickly losing his patience with both her and Fera. She could sense the tension coiling within him, ready to strike out like a cobra.

He moved as if to get up and she quickly grabbed his arm. "Please, she really is almost done. Just hold on for a little bit more."

He glared at her hand then back at her. "We don't have time for this, Granger. The longer we stay on the Astral Plane the greater the pull to drift will become."

Her grip tightened on his arm and she stared pleadingly at him, begging him silently to wait a little longer.

A loud, "Damn it to the bowels of Hell!" from down the shore had them both turning towards Fera. Hermione released a sigh of relief. If Fera was talking again then she was approachable once more.

"It looks like Fera is done. Can you wait here while I talk to her? This won't take long," she said to him.

"You have ten minutes to ask what you need to ask." He took out a pocket watch as if he were going to time her.

Hermione gaped at him. "Ten minutes?! But that's hardly any time at all!"

"We've lingered here too long, Granger. I can't keep both of us tethered here forever," he snapped. "You would have had more than enough time to talk to her if you hadn't insisted we laze about on the rocks."

"Talking to her while she's distracted would have been pointless!" she argued.

Snape wouldn't hear any of it. He crossed his arms, his face setting in a mulish expression. "You have ten minutes Granger. Ten. And then we'll be leaving, whether you're finished or not."

"Fine!" She threw her hands up in the air, exasperated, then turned on her heel to stomp away.

"It's not like this research is important or anything. I'm sure ten minutes will be more than enough time to figure out how to save the bloody world," she mumbled sarcastically, making sure she was just loud enough for him to hear.

The angry growl she heard in response made her feel only marginally better.

* * *

As Hermione got closer, she could finally make out her old mentor properly. She looked much the same as she had in person. Her blond hair was just as long as before, and her eyes were just as clear and blue as ever. The only marked difference was she was now surrounded by a light orange glow that was streaked with dark reds, cloudy blues, and hundreds of black spots.

It was the spots of black that Hermione worried about the most. She didn't know what they meant specifically, but she knew enough to know that colors that dark in a persons aura were never good.

"Useless! Completely useless!" Fera shouted, waving her hand at the sand below her and just like that, all of her hard work was gone. The sand was back to its pristine and untouched state.

"Why'd you get rid of it?" Hermione inquired.

"It did not work. Why should I keep it?" Fera grumbled, then looked up as if finally seeing her for the first time. She smiled brightly.

"Watson! You are just in time. I want you to look at something for me—" Fera pointed down at the sand where her work had been, then seeing it cleared away she sighed. "Damn…what did I put down?"

Hermione patted Fera's shoulder as she had done a million times before. "I'm sure you'll remember it later on."

Fera shrugged gracefully. "Possibly, or possibly not. It does not matter. It was a useless problem anyway." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "…I think."

"I'm sure it couldn't have been entirely useless. Nothing is ever entirely useless when it comes to research."

Fera scoffed. "You'd be surprised at how many entirely useless things I run into on a daily basis, especially within my research." She paused and her blue eyes critically raked over Hermione. "You have used some of my hair. Why?"

"I needed to talk with you."

Fera waved her off. "Need is a relative term. You cannot have gotten that far into my notes. Only a few months have passed here, so I imagine even less time has passed in the real world."

"A little over three weeks."

"And you are already crying for help? Great gods, girl. Did your brains not cross into the real world with you?" Fera tsked, shaking her head.

"Oh hush! I haven't even started working on your research yet. I've been too busy finishing my exams."

"Then why in Morgana's name did you contact me?"

"I wanted to ask your opinion on where you think I should start again. Or if there's any ideas you wanted to share with me, regarding the Reservoir Stone. But mostly, it's because I promised not to include anyone else unless I got your prior approval."

Fera tilted her head. "Oh, you already have a potential partner in mind?"

"Well, Headmaster Dumbledore was going to be one of them," Hermione began.

"Dumbledore. I recall you mentioning that name to me before. The leader of your Order." The blond raised a hand when Hermione went to say something about the Headmaster. "No, no need to tell me about him. I am not truly interested in this Dumbledore character unless he is the partner you have in mind."

"No, he has already expressed a desire to be kept in the dark when it comes to the stone's production."

A knowing smile spread on Fera's face. "My, my. That is interesting. Perhaps your little Order will do as well as you had hoped."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, my dear. So, if not Dumbledore, then who do you have your eyes set on?"

Hermione grimaced. "I'm not sure if I would go with that wording exactly, but..." Biting her lip, nervously, Hermione looked down the beach to where Snape was sitting again, staring off into the distance and looking very impatient. "Him. He is—was my Potions Professor."

"Was?"

"I'm no longer a student anymore. Don't ask, it's all a part of Dumbledore's master plan."

"Hmm." Fera looked at the dark wizard curiously, and began walking towards him. Snape rigidly rose from the rock when he spied the two witches headed his way.

Hermione quickly stepped in between them, to make the introductions. She sent a pleading look at Fera, silently begging her to behave. She would've sent one to Snape as well, but she was sure that the professor would go out of his way to do the exact opposite if she had.

"Fera, this is Professor Snape, he teaches at Hogwarts, and is a member of the Order with me." She gestured towards the older witch. "Professor Snape, this is Fera."

Fera circled the professor, examining him as if he were a museum display. He stiffened uncomfortably. "Snape, Snape…why does that name sound so familiar? Ah! Yes! This is the one you dreamt of, correct? The man behind the voice."

Hermione looked between the two Slytherins in a panic. Snape raised a curious eyebrow. "I—I didn't…not like that…" Her cheeks burned and she hurriedly looked away to pin her mentor with a murderous glare. "Fera, where the hell did you get that idea?!"

"From your diary, of course."

"You read my diary! What the Hell!" the younger witch shrieked.

"I was bored," Fera replied as if that explained it all. "Why are you so embarrassed. It is not as if you only dreamt of him. I was there, as well as your little friends, Harry and Robby."

"It's Ron."

"Who?"

"I—never mind. In any case, do I have your approval?" Hermione wouldn't, no couldn't meet the Professor's eyes. If she wasn't so embarrassed at the moment, she would have probably strangled Fera by now, who was already eyeing her professor again as if nothing had happened.

"What kind of man are you, Mr. Snape?" The other witch asked.

"What?" he replied, agitated.

"It is a simple enough question, Mr. Snape," Fera said unaffected by his temper. "What kind of man are you? Are you intelligent or merely smart? Are you loyal? A brash man? Do you like the color purple, etc., etc."

"What is the purpose of these asinine questions?" he said instead. "Or do you just enjoy the sound of your own grating voice?"

"So defensive. Are you always so suspicious of the motives of others?"

"What reason would I have to trust them?"

Fera nodded as if she totally understood, but Hermione wasn't so sure about that. There was a suspicious glint in her eye, a look she only got whenever she wanted to 'joke around' with Hermione. And by joke, she really meant torment. Hermione was pretty sure that it was a Slytherin thing.

"Would it help if I told you some things about myself? A little quid pro quo?" Fera asked innocently.

"It would help if you got to the point," he told her, narrowing his eyes.

She ignored him. "I am fond of moonlit nights, and strawberries. I graduated at the top of my class from Hogwarts and my father tried to kill me. There. Now it is your turn." She motioned for him to pick up where she left off. When he remained silent, she continued.

"Do you need more? Hmm…I had a fiancé before I was trapped in the Soul Book, but my father most likely had him killed and I am not very fond of tomatoes, though Hermione keeps telling me that I should have more variety in my diet." She sighed wistfully. "It was easier when she was there to cook for me though. And you?" She gestured towards him again.

"**I** have no desire to waste my time prattling on like an old maid," he responded sharply. "Clearly, the Soul Book has addled your mind. Miss Granger, we are leaving."

Fera stepped in front of him before he could go. "Were you raised by a herd of Graphorns? Your manners leave much to be desire."

He glared at her. "I assure you, madame, meeting you has been just as much of a disappointment."

Fera cocked her head to the side. "You are very rude, and angry, and you have a particularly vicious tongue. Was this from a childhood trauma? Bullying, perhaps?"

His hands clenched at his sides, and Hermione was sure that he was close to hexing her friend. "And you are a farcical madwoman with an overestimated intelligence and inflated sense of self worth. Why, Miss Granger hangs onto your every word, I'll never know, nor would I care to find out, as I am sure the answer would be just as insipid as this conversation is turning out to be. Now, if we are finished with this inane heart to heart session, I would like to leave."

Hermione made to intercept Fera when she saw her move, sure that the blond was about to pull out her wand in response to the insult. But no wands were pulled out, instead Fera folded in half, laughter bubbling from her throat.

"Farcical madwoman, indeed!" she laughed brightly. She clapped Hermione on the shoulder, pointing her thumb at a thunderstruck Snape. "I like him. He is very witty. I approve."

"What—really?" Hermione asked, still trying to process what had just occurred.

"Approval? What are you talking about now?" Snape demanded of Fera, who was already walking away.

She waved at them, as her body began to disappear from the Astral Plane. "Wonderful meeting you Mr. Snape. Do watch over Hermione for me, will you?" She winked at him. "And Hermione, wonderful choice, my dear. I imagine that you two working together will yield…intriguing results. I wish you luck, my dears, for you will need it."

"Wait Fera, about your notes," Hermione began.

"You will figure it out," she told her with a mischievous smile, "after all, you have yourself a proper partner now. Ta-ta."

And she was gone.

"I—" Hermione started to say something, anything to fill the vacuum of awkward silence that just descended on them.

Snape looked like he wanted to say more. To flood her with the questions about what had just occurred, but even more than that, he looked unsettled, like the rug had just been pulled out from under his feet. So he settled with saying, "Let's go, Granger. We've been here long enough."

* * *

The two returned to their bodies in a rush. Hermione staggered to her feet, her eyes sluggishly opening just in time to see the dark wizard rushing from the room.

"Professor?" she called out, stumbling after him blindly.

He turned back to her sharply. "Go back to Hogwarts," he told her, then continued on his way, not waiting for her response.

"But…" she said, then stopped when she realized he was well out of ear shot. Faintly she heard the sound of feet rushing up stairs and the front door being slammed closed. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you back at Hogwarts then," she sighed.

She walked back into the lab, cleaning out the wooden bowl and putting it and the jug away. When that was done, she began gathering up her robes and bag. She paused when she saw his robes and frock coat folded on the floor in a far corner. Deliberating for only a second, she decided to grab his clothes as well, and stuffed them into her bag to give to him later.

With everything all set and put away, she went back to the sitting room's Floo, her feet dragging. The day had been too long, and she was too tired to think about anything other than her bed.

Tomorrow, she promised herself as she slowly trudged back into Gryffindor tower and up to her room. She would deal with it tomorrow.

* * *

A/N: Poor Snape just wasn't prepared for Fera and now he has to mentally recoup.

Hoped you liked Fera's return and it seems like she's already got her own opinions on Hermione choice of partners...whatever those are ;)

Up next: Hogsmeade with Tonks, and Blaise acts 'friendly'.

As always, review~


	27. Pajamas and Helpful Slytherins

**Thank you for the reviews guys! And of course, thank you to my betas, Emilia Wolfe and McGonagall's Bola. Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Last time:

With everything all set and put away, she went back to the sitting room's Floo, her feet dragging. The day had been too long, and she was too tired to think about anything other than her bed.

Tomorrow, she promised herself as she slowly trudged back into Gryffindor tower and up to her room. She would deal with it tomorrow.

* * *

Chapter 26

Two young first years eagerly rushed passed Hermione, accidentally shoving into her as they went. She stumbled forward, glaring after the culprits. "Why am I here again?"

"Because it's the last Hogsmeade weekend before exams! We have to use this time to relax and prepare," Ron dutifully explained.

"Yes, but **I'm** already finished with my exams." she replied.

"Then it's to celebrate."

"I should be studying for my NEWTs."

"Come on, Mione. That can wait."

"Ron—"

Harry came in between them, wrapping his arms around their shoulders. "Ron makes a good point, Hermione." The three stepped into an open carriage. "It's just one day. You can't forget to have fun every now and then. Otherwise you'll drive yourself crazy."

"That is so true," a tall, slender, black-haired girl in Ravenclaw robes said, climbing into the carriage with them. She plopped down into the seat next to Hermione, shooing her over to make more room. "A good dose of fun is always called for."

The Gryffindors eyed the new stranger warily.

"Um," Hermione began, "Do we know you?"

The Ravenclaw dramatically sighed. "You disappoint me, Granger. A little time a part and already you've forgotten about me." She looked around discretely before her hair started turning into a shade of pink so bright and familiar that Hermione instantly knew who she was speaking to.

There was only one witch she knew that could pull off hair that pink.

"Tonks," Hermione said with a smile, grabbing the witch into a hug. Harry and Ron, who had only ever seen the Auror from a distance as she was leaving Order meetings, silently watched the two.

Tonks waved at them cheekily, settling back in her seat. The carriage rocked forward, setting off towards Hogsmeade.

"So what's with the face?" Hermione said. "Is that really a student at Hogwarts?"

Tonks' hair turned back into the pin straight black. "Nah, this is Maya Hahn, an old Muggle friend of mine. I'm just borrowing her face while I'm on duty."

"Duty?" Harry asked.

"With all the trouble going on lately, Dumbledore thought it best to have Aurors on watch. Naturally, I volunteered, thought I'd drop in and say hey."

Ron looked around at the other carriages, and surrounding forest. "So where are the others?"

Tonks smirked. "They're around."

"So, shouldn't you be out there, hiding with your people and whatnot?"

"Nah, I'm on personal detail today." Tonks pouted. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me, Weasley. I'm hurt."

Ron flushed, looking away. "Uh, no. Sorry."

The two women shared a knowing grin.

"Don't worry about it, kid." She punched his shoulder fondly.

"Alright, so where did you want to go first?" Harry asked.

Rubbing his aching shoulder, Ron perked up. "How about—"

Hermione groaned, "Please don't say Spintwitches."

"What's wrong with the Spintwitches? They have new broom covers with the Canon's autographs on them!"

"Really?" Harry, always one to expound on the joys of quidditch easily fell into an animated conversation with Ron about the team's new seeker, which Hermione wanted no part of. Rolling her eyes, she turned to looked out at the passing trees.

Tonks shifted in her seat beside Hermione. "Don't worry," the Auror whispered with a mischievous grin. "I've got other plans."

* * *

"I am **not** going in there." Hermione stared up at the wooden shop sign, inscribed with _Silk and Satin's Lingerie_. She looked around to make sure none of the other students were watching her. The last thing she needed was yet **another** rumor swirling around the school about her.

"Oh come on," Tonks pleaded, dragging her into the shop with her anyway. She waved at a sales girl behind the counter. "This wont kill you."

"Shouldn't we be staying with the guys?"

"Eh, no need. Moody's got his eye on them—ha! No pun intended," Tonks joked.

"Moody's here? Where?" Hermione turned back around to check out the crowded street where she could see plenty of students and Aurors milling about, but no Moody.

"He's on the Polyjuice today. Didn't want to cause a stir. Don't worry, he'll let the boys know he's around and protecting them. They'll be perfectly safe."

"Fine, but I still don't get why you dragged me into a lingerie shop. I have no need for any of these things," Hermione replied morosely. She had nothing against women who enjoyed delicate undergarments, but she personally found them to be utterly useless. She much preferred her simple cotton underwear and her worn sweats. They were not only comfortable and easy to wear, but they were also easy on the budget.

"Then you can help me pick out something. Come on, we're mates aren't we?" Tonks pleaded, morphing her face into that of a begging puppy. The small whimpering noises she made were a good touch.

"Alright! But I'm only here for you, not me," Hermione warned.

"Yes!" Tonks whooped, punching the air, and running off to another part of the store. Before Hermione could blink she was back and holding up a small little purple nightie. "What do you think about this?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the scrap of clothing. "I think that you'll freeze your bits off trying to wear that."

"That's what Warming Charms are for," Tonks replied with a cheeky grin. "Besides if it makes his jaw drop then my bits can turn into glaciers for all I care."

The Gryffindor gave a cheeky grin. "His? Whose jaw are _you_ trying to drop?" she asked, as if she didn't know that the **him **was a certain sandy-haired werewolf.

Embarrassed, Tonk's entire face, neck and hair turned a deep rosy pink. "No one. This is just, you know, in case I meet someone later."

Riiiiiight, like Hermione believed that. "So this has nothing to do with a former professor we both know, whose name rhymes with Seamus?"

Tonks ducked her head, nervously fidgeting. "Is it really that obvious?"

"A bit, yeah." Hermione shrugged. "But he looks just as smitten with you as you do with him, so you shouldn't worry about it."

"Really?" The witch's eyes filled with hope. "You think so?"

"Definitely. Anyone can see it."

Tonks toyed with the strap of the nightie, uncharacteristically shy. "He actually asked me out already. Took me to a restaurant he likes."

"Really?" Hermione asked excitedly. "That's great! How was it?"

Leaning back against a rack with a dreamy face, Tonks sighed. "It was perfect. He's so sweet and charming. And such a gentleman. I'm such a klutz around him, but he doesn't seem to care."

"Good. You two deserve each other." Hermione took in her friend's glazed eyes and goofy smile and huffed in amusement. She turned the other witch around in front of another rack of bras. "Here. Look at the pretty bras before your brain goes into Remus overload and you turn into a puddle of mushy affections."

"Oi! I'm not that far gone," Tonks protested weakly.

"Yeah and I'm the Queen of England," she quipped sarcastically, reaching back to pick up the white and red polka dot bra that Tonks had abandoned during her lapse into her Remus-centered Dreamland. Her hand snapped back just in time as another customer, a birdish looking woman with perfectly coifed grey hair, stomped between them rudely. The woman shot her a venomous look, as if Hermione were the one who had gotten in **her** way and with a disdainful sniff, she headed into a dressing room and snapped the door shut.

"What bee got in her bonnet?" Tonks muttered, holding something dark green and silky.

"I don't know." Hermione shook her head, already forgetting about the obnoxious customer. She pointed at the clothes in Tonks' arms. "Did you find something else."

"Eh." Tonks shrugged, unfurling the pajama set she had picked up. It was a pretty thing. Smooth and a green so dark that it was almost black. And every time the light hit it she could see gleaming streaks of emerald shimmer across the cloth like rolling waves. "I thought I'd like it, but the colors not really my thing."

"What, too Slytherin for you?" Hermione teased.

Tonks snorted. "Please, the only ones who get caught up in that House rivalry nonsense are you lions and snakes. I just prefer lighter greens." She handed Hermione the set. "Why don't you try it on?"

"Me? Why would I try it on?"

"Oh! you should. That color would do wonders for your complexion," an overeager salesgirl said, coming over to them. "And it's 100% Fairy Silk, so it'll feel like you're wearing feathers."

"Fairy silk?" Hermione asked. She remembered reading about it in a potions journal somewhere.

"It's the best kind of material," the salesgirl explained in a rush. "It's extremely durable, almost as strong as Dragonhide. You could shoot a fireball at these babies and the cloth wouldn't even singe. And they're so much prettier. Don't you think?"

"Well you heard the lady. Go and try them on." Tonks nudged her towards the fitting rooms. "After all, it's not a proper girls' day out until everyone tries on something frivolous and pretty."

"Technically speaking, this isn't really a 'girls' day out.' You're on duty."

"So? I'm a great multi-tasker."

"This isn't my size," Hermione pointed out, trying a different tactic.

"Oh, don't worry about that. It's enchanted with a complimentary Sizing and Warming Charm," the salesgirl happily supplied.

"See, no more excuses. In!" Tonks shoved her into an open stall, throwing the pajama set at her and slamming the door shut. "And don't come out until you've twirled around in the mirror with them on at least once!" She called through the door.

Hermione childishly stuck out her tongue. "Tyrant," she whispered under her breath, peering at the pajamas she had been given.

They truly were gorgeous. And no, she didn't give two figs that they were greenish. Perhaps when she was a first year, when she had been desperately trying to fit in with her housemates, she would have balked at wearing the set (least she be seen in them). But now?

She was a grown woman, secure in herself and her friendships. She no longer cared whether her fellow Gryffindors approved of her wardrobe or not. They were just clothes after all and she was free to admit that she **liked** the color green, dammit!

With that thought in mind, Hermione began stripping down and pulling on the tank top and pants, the silk flowing like water down her body. She turned to get a better look, frowning at her reflection.

The fabric hung oddly, its magic making it flutter as if it couldn't decide what shape to take, then it settled down, conforming to her eighteen-year-old frame. Staring at the dark fabric covering her smaller chest and boyish hips, something still felt off, and she suddenly wondered what it would look like on her **real** body.

Curiosity itched at her and with a quick glance around her small cubicle, she decided it was safe enough to take off her necklace. It would be a quick peek, she promised herself. On and off.

As a precaution she also set up a few Privacy wards, so no one could magically peek in, then she carefully unclasped her necklace.

The change was instantaneous. Her hair became longer, her curls a bit smoother, her height a bit taller, and her body a little curvier, filling the pajamas (which had stretched with her) nicely. And of course there was also that blasted tattoo on her hand, but she did her best to ignore that.

She twirled around in the mirror again, happy with what she was seeing. She hadn't realized until now just how much she had missed her old self. And as she thought, the pajamas looked far better on _this_ Hermione than the school girl she was trying to project.

The pajamas were surprisingly comfortable too, with a level of cosiness that could rival even her most worn sweats and rattiest t-shirt.

The warmth radiating from the material, and pleasantly heating her skin, she assumed was thanks to the Warming Charm the store had added to prevent the aforementioned 'bit freezing' from happening.

_Very nice, but it must be expensive. _She looked down at the tag, her eyes bulging from the ridiculous string of numbers on display.

This was more than just a pricey item, this was a you're-not-going-to-be-eating-for-a-month-if-you-do-this kind of expensiveness that she could scarcely comprehend, much less afford. Dropping the tag and getting in one last final look at her reflection, she took off the pajamas with more reluctancy and longing sighs than she cared to admit.

She carefully folded them up and placed them on the bench, then got dressed back in her school clothes (starting with her necklace). Her eighteen year old self was staring at her once again. Another disappointment. With a sigh she left the changing room, leaving the pajamas behind.

Tonks was already waiting for her. "Where are the pajamas? Didn't they fit?"

"No, the clothes fit fine, of course. It was the price that just didn't fit my wallet," Hermione explained, morosely. "It's a shame too. They were gorgeous."

She hurried away from her changing room, before she could do something that she would regret later.

"Let me know when you're finished," she told Tonks, who was already at the registers next to a hefty pile of clothes and a very satisfied salesgirl. She took a seat in one of the empty chairs by the front of the store, as she waited for Tonks to finish, all the while despairing over her bank account and her currently jobless state.

Back in Hermione's changing room, a small Black Widow with red tipped legs, crawled through a tiny crack in the wall and out of the shop, scurrying to carry a message to it's master.

* * *

They were finished with their shopping later than expected, so by the time they headed over to the Three Broomsticks, Harry and Ron were already seated at the back of the crowded pub at a small table.

"There you are," Ron called out, waving them over. "Where've you guys been? It's nearly time to leave."

Hermione hefted her bags, most of which were filled with new (and heavy) tomes that were too sensitive to magically charm weightless. She flexed her aching fingers in relief.

"Well, Tomes and Scrolls was having a sale and—"

Ron gaped at her bags. "You bought **more** books?"

"Yes," Hermione said defensively, eyeing his own bags peevishly. "And I see you went and bought half of Honeydukes yourself. As if you need **more **candy."

Really. Those in glass houses…

"Did you find anything good," Harry asked, stepping in before the two could start a spat.

"Actually, I have a couple of good finds on Charm theory. You're more than welcome to borrow them," she offered. From Harry's hesitant face and Ron's obvious disgust, she could see they weren't going to take her up on her offer anytime soon. Oh well. More reading time for her then.

"Do you mind if I nab this one?" Tonks held up a worn, skinny black book, with silver letters that read, _Magical Minds_.

"**You **want to read that?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Oi! What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Well…it's…uh," the redhead stammered, looking to his friends for backup.

Tonks continued, raising her chin in an haughty manner. "I **like** reading academic literature. I'll have you know that I was semi-top of my class."

Harry squinted his eyes in confusion. "Is semi-top a thing?"

"Course it is!"

Taking that as her cue to take a break, Hermione slipped from the table and headed to the toilet. Her friends voices, rising in the heat of an argument (though what they could be arguing over was beyond her), drifted off as she rounded the corner and moved down the hall to the women's room.

She was just about to head into the bathroom when a shadow loomed over her.

"Excuse me Miss, but would you happen to be Hermione Granger?"

Two burly looking men, decked out in blue Auror robes, crowded into the small hallway, blocking the exit as they waited for her answer.

Hermione cautiously looked over the two, her hand discreetly falling to her side where her wand was waiting and ready. They didn't look like a threat. They were wearing the same robes as the other Aurors who were hanging about. Tonks had also informed her that Kingsley had personally chosen every Auror on duty today, so if they were here, then by rights, she should be able to trust them.

And yet, there was something in the way they were watching her, with practiced intimidation and anticipation, that made her uneasy.

"Are you Hermione Granger?" The one on the left repeated, his eyebrow twitching in impatience.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" Hermione asked instead of answering, her Occlumency shields automatically doubling up. "Is something the matter?"

The other man stepped forward, his eyes darting around the hallway quickly in a manner that Hermione didn't like at all. "We're from the Department of Investigations, Miss Granger. And we need to ask you a few questions."

"What questions?" Hermione backed away, sure now that these were **not** Kingsley's men. Those Auror would have no need to question her, nor did she think they would be interested in her 'case.' The only men who had shown an interest had been obvious Death Eater Sympathizer, men who were nestled under the Dark Lord's thumb.

Her gut was telling her she was now dealing with the later. This was not good.

She tried to look for a way out, but the two men had slowly boxed her in, completely blocking her view of the dining room. The shadowy hallway only made it worse, and she knew that no one in the dining area would be able to see her. Her chances for escape, it seemed, were dwindling at a dangerous pace.

_Damn! Harry's gonna kill me._

"I'm assuming this has something to do with my academic leave," Hermione rambled, hoping to distract them enough to get away. "Because a few Ministry officials already came to ask me some questions and I was assured I wouldn't be bothered about the subject again."

She tried to shift away from them.

They blatantly followed her steps.

_Double damn._

"There were just some concerns that we'd like to address with the paper work. This really is just a formality. If you would come with us, we'll ask our questions, file our report and then you'll be free to go. Easy," guy number two said, with what she was assuming he thought was a charming smile.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "All of my paperwork was completed perfectly and I was given approval for leave months in advance," she bluffed, trying to sound both irritated and arrogant. "Why is the Ministry interested in my internship **now** when its had practically half a year to kick up a fuss if something wasn't right."

"Like I said, Miss Granger, this is a formality we do with all students who study internationally. It's just a precaution that we take to make sure no one accidentally brings back anything that could cause an international incident. It's for the welfare of the entire community," guy number two told her, a little less smoothly. His patience was clearly running thin.

"Then why wasn't I told this before when I was with Headmaster Dumbledore?" She edged a little further away. Guy number one gave his partner a look before his hand moved towards his waist, where his wand sat. Obviously, he was done playing along.

Panic began to set in, as she grabbed for her wand too. Her mind went into overdrive as she tried to quickly consider her options.

She knew she had to find a way to warn the others. She had her DA coin on her, but getting out a message in time would be impossible. And she couldn't send a Patronus. Surely they would try to stop her and then it would turn into an all out brawl and she wasn't sure if she could take on two opponents at once. Not in so small a space. Without the ability to move around, the two cronies would be able to use not only their magic but their physical strength against her, and she wasn't strong enough magically to fend off both wands and muscles.

No, she had to think of something else. Subduing them and trying to win an all out battle was out of the question. Perhaps she could create a distraction. Blind them with a bright light? Maybe fog? No, that wouldn't do, she was too close to them to slip away without them catching her. So she was going to have to create some space between them, with…Bombarda…yeah that could work. She would have to be quick about it, casting the Blinding Hex and the Bombarda seamlessly together, then she'd run back into the crowded dining room and contact the Headmaster.

_Not a perfect plan, but it'll have to do._

Her arm jerked as she prepared to throw the first spell at them, when a new voice entered the cramped Hallway.

"Granger! There you are," Blaise Zabini called out. He walked under the hall's doorway only a few steps away from them, stopping when he caught sight of her. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Who are you?" "How did you get back here?" The two Aurors asked at the same time, their wands were out and pointing at the intruder.

Hands were held up in surprise and Blaise looked around innocently. "Well, I walked, of course. This hallway is connected to the dining area, you know," he told them simply.

Hermione would have laughed at his blasé tone if she wasn't so stupefied by the situation at hand.

"What are you doing here?" Guy number two tried again, straightening up, and putting away his wand, while motioning for his partner to do the same. He smiled, trying to appear less villainous (not that it was working in Hermione's opinion) and threatening.

"Professor Smith is calling for all the prefects to start the round up. Granger's my patrol partner and I need to check in with her," he explained, oblivious to the rising tension in the air.

Guy number two shook his head, his grin strained. He looked like he wanted to hex Blaise into oblivion, but the Slytherin was conveniently still standing in the doorway of the hall…in full view of the rest of the pub. The second anything happened to him, others would see.

Hermione was pretty positive that his location wasn't a coincidence. In fact, nothing about Blaise's sudden appearance screamed coincidence. A crazy idea, that perhaps, he was there to help popped into her mind.

The thought was almost too dumbfounding to believe.

"I'm afraid we have to keep Miss Granger a little while longer. We're in the middle of an official investigation, and we still need a few more questions answered," the Auror said.

Seeing an opportunity for escape, she pounced.

"Which I would more than happy to help you with. But first I need to talk to my Professor. As Blaise pointed out, I do have responsibilities to attend to, and I don't want my absence to worry anyone," she lied easily. The minute they moved out of the way, she was going to hightail it out of there and get back to safety.

She moved to leave, but an arm shot out, blocking her way. Guy number two sneered at her. "Hold on just one moment. You aren't—"

"You gentlemen are more than welcome to come with us to talk to our professor," Blaise cut in smoothly. "I don't mean to inconvenience you, but if I don't show up with Granger, my house could lose points. I'm sure you understand my dilemma."

Arriving just as suddenly as Zabini had, Tonks appeared in the hallway, still wearing her Ravenclaw robes but with her normal face back in place. "What's going on here?" the witch demanded, and Hermione nearly wanted to cry in relief.

The two goons tensed awkwardly, as Tonks zeroed in on them, her eyes hardening in distrust.

"Tobbs, Morrison. What are you two doing here?" the smaller Auror barked out, as she marched over to them. The two men dwarfed Tonks, but that didn't seem to matter as they flinched away from her in fear. Clearly there was a pecking order in the Auror Department and Tonks was surprisingly higher up on the ladder than Hermione had expected.

"We were just stopping by for a pint," one of them explained quickly.

Hermione huffed at the pathetic excuse, wanting to say something, but it looked like Tonks had already sniffed out the truth. Besides, Zabini was still there, watching the spectacle play out in amusement.

"Well you better get to the bar then. Can't get a pint out here in the hallway." Tonks gave them a hard edged smile, her teeth gleaming (and much sharper than Hermione remembered them being). Her eyes glinted dangerously, promising violence and retribution.

The Gryffindor's eyebrows rose in shock and slight unease at her friend's subtle transformation. Tonks, she realized, was kinda scary.

It was a fact that the other Aurors probably already knew, because their faces paled and they stepped away from Hermione. Nodding towards Tonks, they shuffled out of the hallway and out of the Three Broomsticks, not even stopping for their pint.

With the threat gone, Tonks relaxed, once more her easy going self. "You alright there, Hermione?"

"Yeah, I'm good." All the tension leaked out of her and she slumped with relief. "Thanks for coming."

Tonks scoffed, disgusted. "I'm sorry it took so long. I dropped the ball, Granger. Got too lax and it almost cost you."

"Look, I'm fine," she assured her friend. "What's important is that you got here in time."

"But—" Tonks stopped, noticing that they still had an audience. "Who are you?"

Blaise stepped away from the archway, shrugging. "Just a friendly passerby." He smirked at the two witches. "It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Tonks. See you at the castle Granger." He nodded to Hermione and turned.

She didn't know what lead her to speak, but before he could leave Hermione called out, "You're not a prefect." It was her not so subtle way of telling him that she was on to him and whatever game he was playing.

Blaise turned back, a bemused grin on his face. "I'm not? Huh…must have slipped my mind."

She didn't stop him from leaving again and watched, baffled, as he disappeared into the crowd of students leaving for the carriages.

Tonks stepped up beside her. "Who was that?"

"An enemy, I thought," Hermione murmured, her mind already trying to puzzle out the mystery that was Blaise Zabini. There was one possible answer, but she would have to look further into it, recheck her notes. Because if Zabini was who she thought he was…

"You thought?"

"Now, I'm thinking he might just be an ally." She turned to Tonks.

"Hmm…well," Tonks responded thoughtfully, "I would say a definite ally."

"You would?"

"He bumped into me on his way back here, and I thought for sure the little snot had tried to pickpocket me and got up to follow him. Then I realized you hadn't returned yet and came rushing over," Tonks explained.

Hermione blinked. "Well that was lucky."

Tonks snorted. "Lucky? Nah. I've been in this game long enough to know that luck like that doesn't happen. Not even in the Magical World. That Zabini kid wanted me to come rescue you, though how he knew I was an Auror is beyond me." She brushed at her uniform irritably. "My disguise was flawless."

Hermione hummed thoughtfully, so many questions bursting into her head and not nearly enough answers to satisfy her. "I wonder how he knew I needed help too."

"Beats me." Tonks shrugged, but Hermione could see a determination in her gaze that said she wouldn't be clueless for much longer. "But a boy that clever, must have had a good reason. I'm betting you'll be bumping into him again soon."

Hermione had a feeling the witch was right. If Blaise had helped her for a specific reason then it was only a matter time before he popped up again and when he did…she'd be ready for him.

* * *

**A/N: So Blaise has finally made his first move towards friendship, how Hermione responds (shrugs). And just what is going to happen with the black widow? **

**Up Next: Hermione goes on a Midnight stroll and the Red Dragon secures a ally.**


	28. Failed Deceptions and Resting Professors

**Another chapter done! A huge thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. I love it! And of course, thank you to my betas, McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe**

**Oh and to Guest, who wrote about the rhyming thing with Seamus...hehe (rubs the back of my neck). Caught that did you? One of my friends pointed that out to me afterwards and I was like, '****oops.' So I'll definitely be changing it, but good catch :P**

**Hope you like it!**

* * *

Chapter 27

Severus hovered outside of the Lestrange's dining room, his hand poised above the doorknob, when a loud cry made him pause. His entire body stilled, his ears straining to decipher the hysterical sounds coming from inside.

He could make out a man's voice—no make that two—shrieking out apologies. A woman joined them, her sobs incomprehensibly muddled by panic and confusion.

"You would DARE try to mislead ME!" The Dark Lord's voice rose above theirs', "DO YOU THINK ME A FOOL!"

A blinding green light flashed, peeking through the space at the bottom of the door, followed by a terrible scream, three loud thuds, and…silence.

He took a step back, inhaling deeply.

He had been right then. Tonight would be a night for punishment. He had felt it through the summons—the Dark Lord's anger. Fiery and wild as it lashed out through his Dark Mark with enough pain to bring the spy to his knees. It was all the warning Severus needed, to know that the night would be a long and excruciating one.

If someone was fool enough to blatantly lie to the Dark Lord, then he and the other Death Eaters would be the ones to suffer the consequences of the mad wizard's paranoia, in the form of loyalty "tests," which meant pain and thoroughly invasive searches.

There was no choice for it then, he would have to completely safeguard his mind, by burying his conscious so deep that the Dark Lord wouldn't even be able to tell what his favorite color was. Albus would likely lecture him for hours later about taking such huge risks. The old man never did like what the backlash from it did to him. But it was a risk he had to take. It was the only way to keep his mind safe from the worst of the Dark Lord's onslaught…He just hoped that he didn't lose himself completely in the process.

His eyes closed, and he slipped into his mind.

His method of loci, so different from other Occlumens who used the typical house or garden to organize their mind, was an open, snowy tundra. There were no trees, no plants, no large buildings with overly complex rooms, just a vast wintery landscape with a single cave, obscured by the constant assault of a fierce snow storm.

His conscious self, shimmering with the bright and dark colors of his emotions and thoughts, stood inside the cave. His hand ran over a long pod of ice that sat in the very center of the damp cavern. It was a perfect sphere of ice, unnaturally round and clear like an oversized glass bead. The door at the top of the pod was already open and waiting for him.

Stepping inside before he could change his mind, he settled down in the hollowed out space, and closed himself in. As the door sealed shut, the ice from the shell spread over him in a cold blanket. The world around him dimmed, color leeching out until he was seeing in only various shades of grey, definition was lost as everything became dull and flat. Eventually his world froze over.

When Severus opened his eyes again, he was back in the corridor of the Lestrange Manor, in front of the dinning room door. He looked around curiously, his mind perfectly silent, devoid of all tedious emotion and complex thoughts. With his mind safely encased in the quiet, there was no need to mentally prepare himself before going into the room. He knew that he would see dead bodies, and that he would have to endure a painful punishment, but the knowledge caused him no anxiety. The punishment would occur and the victims the Dark Lord had killed would remain dead, whether he was prepared to see them or not. Death was death, and pain was pain. Both were inevitable.

He calmly pushed the door open, his gaze quickly skirting around the room, absorbing as much information as possible, his face blank even as he caught sight of the three victims.

As he had expected they were all dead, lying off to the side of the room in a pile of thrown limbs and bodies. One man on the bottom was still reaching towards the door, his blue Auror robes fanning out over him like a death sheet. He had probably tried to run, an irrational reaction, considering the Dark Lord preferred to use magic to punish his followers, and that it was hard to outrun a curse. He would have fared better if he had tried to erect a shield first.

The other man was twisted up with the woman, his official robes tangling around her, and his shoulders hunched up behind her. Ah, he had used her as a shield. A logical move. One's own survival was always more important than another's. However, the man wasn't very smart. He should have followed it up with a diversion of some kind to lure the Dark Lord's attention away, then used the ruckus to make his escape. If he had the capacity to feel disappointment in the Auror department for their obvious lack of competency, he might have then. And the woman—

His eyes stopped, staring unblinking at the woman. She had curly brown hair.

A small jagged crack appeared in the icy tranquility of his mind.

Was it Granger? It was a possibility in view of the Dark Lord's obsession with the witch, but that made no sense. Albus would have told him of the Gryffindor's disappearance, and with the amount of eyes he had on the witch, he would have been the first to know if something had occurred. And the Dark Lord would be much happier if he had finally captured his much sought after prize.

Conclusion; it wasn't Granger.

He took a closer look, seeing the slight differences now in the mystery woman's appearance now. Although the woman's hair was curly and brown, it was noticeably darker than Granger's and much less curly. Her body, he noted, was also too tall and nearly half a stone heavier. The Dark Lord hadn't gotten a hold of Granger or the vital information she held.

The crack in his mind repaired, smoothing over again. He moved on.

The rest of the Inner circle was sitting meekly at the dining table, their heads bowed. The sharp scent of fear tinged the air around them. Lucius' head lifted only marginally, his eyes darted to Severus and then to something above the fireplace.

Severus covertly followed his gaze, where a body was hanging limply above the marble fireplace, by two large meat hooks, like a prized, stuffed dragon head. The wizard's body, which had been stripped from the waist up, was covered in whipping scars, the red lashes criss-crossing his skin in a macabre pattern. They glowed a sickly, muted yellow—A curse maybe?—probably to make the pain last indefinitely.

His face, which Severus only just recognized as Rabastan, faired only slightly better, unmarred except for the ghastly hole where his right eye had once been. Dried blood caked his cheek under the empty eye socket.

"Severusss…you. Are. LATE!"

Rage, uncontrollable and frenetic, simmered in the Dark Lord's crimson gaze and it was the only warning Severus was given before a red light engulfed his body, throwing him back into the door.

A burning feeling, like he was being attacked by a million fire ants overwhelmed him. His teeth clenched, fighting the urge to claw at his skin. It would only make the burn worse. He had learned that from experience.

He watched the Dark Lord approach him through bleary eyes and tensed for the next rush of curses.

"Yet another servant who needs to be reminded of his place," the Dark Lord commented to the room. He raised his wand with a blood thirsty smile.

* * *

"Snape isn't in class today."

Hermione looked up from her book, her head jerking towards the person responsible for the comment. "What are you talking about, Ron?"

The redhead shrugged, taking the empty seat next to Neville at their crowded table in the back of the library. He smiled, absurdly happy about the news he was about to impart.

Harry and Neville stopping quizzing each other, and Ginny and Luna looked up from their color coded notes that Hermione had made for them.

"Heard it from two Hufflepuffs this morning. They went to their potions exams and Dumbledore was there instead of Snape. Said the Headmaster told 'em, 'he was indisposed'."

"Huh. Seems weird that he wouldn't be around for the last week of school," Harry mused.

Ginny shrugged. "Everyone gets sick now and then."

"He looked perfectly healthy when I bumped into him the other day," Neville said, a slight tremor in his voice that suggested that the "bumping" had been anything but cordial.

"Well, it doesn't really matter, does it?" Ron reminded them. "The point is we don't have to worry about that great bat hovering over our shoulders when we go for our exam in an hour!"

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded, glaring at her friend. "There's no reason to be rude about it. What if he really is sick?"

Ron remained unaffected. "So? All the better for us then. If he really is sick then we might not see him for the rest of the week. Maybe he has Dragon Pox—could you imagine? We'll be Snape free until next September!"

Hermione bristled at his words, her grip tightening on her book. She looked to her friends, hoping to find some back up, but they were nearly all either indifferent to their teacher's plight or in agreement with Ron.

Only Luna was gracious enough to offer up, "I hope it's not the Wackspurts. I've been seeing an awful lot of them lately. I think they're attracted to the stress from the students."

Alright, so it wasn't really the kind of back up that Hermione had been looking for, but at least her blonde friend was showing some compassion unlike the rest of the sorry lot. "Right," she said, with an odd look at Luna. "In any case, it's not right to be speaking ill of a professor like that."

_Especially since he's probably not sick at all, _Hermione thought. Could her friends not connect the dots? Sure Neville and Luna didn't know that their Potions Professor was a spy, but Ginny and the boys knew. Didn't they wonder how someone who was perfectly healthy the day before, could suddenly become sick? Weren't they able to see that, most likely, Snape had gone to Voldemort last night and gotten injured again? And it must have been bad if he skipped out on proctoring the finals today.

All too clearly she remembered what his injuries could be like. The blood that had soaked through his clothes, the tired, red eyes, the delirium. If he was in any condition like he was then, then she couldn't blame him for wanting to take a day off.

"He could be in serious pain right now," she continued, her thoughts still on that night so long ago, "You don't know—"

"Alright! Alright! I'm sorry," Ron interrupted, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Forget I said anything about the Git."

Her eyes narrowed at the insult, but she said nothing otherwise, choosing to just let Ron's thoughtless words go. She had learned a while ago, that some conversations were just pointless with the youngest Weasley. If he didn't want to hear it, he wouldn't listen, even if she talked until she was blue in the face. Harry could be the same way too sometimes

"Boys," Hermione muttered under her breath, as the others moved on to another conversation. Her thoughts remained on Snape.

She toyed with her necklace, rubbing the smooth pearl between her fingers, and wondering about the Headmaster's choice of words. 'He was indisposed.' That could mean a million things! It was so vague. For all she knew it could mean he was on death's door holed up in his rooms.

She could also be overreacting, as Ron no doubt thought she was, but what if she wasn't? What if Snape was really hurt somewhere in the castle? For some reason, she just couldn't shake the feeling that the spy was dealing with more than just your average Scrofungulus bug.

But—she sighed, dropping her book to her lap—it wasn't like she could do anything for him. She was probably the last person he wanted to see, considering their abrupt departure last time. He had been ignoring her ever since then, even after she had returned his robe and coat to him last week. He had grunted at her, snatched the clothes from her and turned back into his office, slamming the door in her face in a very rude manner. Not that she had expected him to gush with gratitude, but still.

"Hey Hermione, how many Everlasting Elixirs are there?" Harry asked her, interrupting her thoughts.

"Oh, there are over fifty different potions that can be made into Everlasting Elixirs. The number's unknown really, as potioneers tend to innovate and experiment, but you'll only have to remember the twelve that Professor Snape told us about in class," she answered him.

"Twelve?!" Ron groaned, leaning back into his chair, "I only remember three."

"I only wrote down six of them," Neville mumbled helplessly.

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You can look at my notes," she said handing over her color coded Potions binder. "Honestly, your exam is in an hour. How do you not already know this?"

Neville sheepishly took the binder, muttering out a, "Sorry Hermione."

"We can't all have your memory, Mione. Just cuz you can remember all twelve and their functions the minute you read about 'em, doesn't mean everyone else can," Ron grumbled morosely, looking over the list with Neville.

"Actually, I've memorized about fifty-six of them," she replied nonchalantly, chuckling when Ron sputtered in disbelief. The others laughed with her and for the moment, thoughts of the Potions Professor were forgotten.

* * *

Albus went down to the infirmary, nodding at Poppy as he passed her office to get to the quarantine room in the back. His wand passed over the doorknob, and there was an audible 'click' as the door opened for him. Stepping inside quickly, he raised the wards again, one of which was a Silencing Ward, before he could disturb the sleeping wizard inside.

It was completely dark inside the room. The Night Owl charm he was using though, helped him to easily navigate his way to the empty chair by the bed, where Severus was sleeping, without using a light. The first time he had come down here he had found that even the dimmest source of light upset the Potions Master, sending him into a fit and working him up to a point that Poppy had strictly forbade having light in the room after that. In her own words, he was 'the bloody Headmaster, he could figure something else out.'

Albus had wisely chosen not to fight with the witch on that point. She was frazzled enough as it was with Severus' condition. Physically, the boy had come back to the school in a terrible condition. He had had dark bruising and swelling on the side of his face, a gash on his chest and lower left thigh, and a checkerboard of welts on his back. Thankfully, Poppy was a miracle worker and she had been able to heal him up within the night.

What really had concerned them was Severus' mental health. The moment he had limped through the front gates, that eery calmness on his face, Albus had known something had gone wrong. Enough so that Severus had to resort to _that_ Occlumency technique. Extreme emergencies were the only reason the younger wizard used it otherwise.

Albus had understood after Severus had looked up at him and told him in a flat voice, "The Dark Lord has confirmed Hermione Granger's identity." If Tom had indeed been able to finally catch onto his plans, than it would explain the sudden summons and Severus' current state.

Poppy had been beside herself as she rushed to put Severus to rights, fretting over him and urging the Headmaster to 'snap him out of it.' (She was even less of a fan of Severus' heavy Occluding than he was).

The 'snapping out' turned out to be harder than Albus had anticipated. He had done it before, Severus already filling him in on how to bypass his mental defenses to get to his cave and release him from his cocoon. But this time, Severus' mind had put up more of a resistance to him. The latch on the cocoon that had always been there for emergencies wasn't there this time. It had disappeared completely, leaving the resting wizard inside the cocoon trapped.

Albus had been left with two options; to leave Severus trapped in his mind, where he would slowly be driven insane, or to break him out by destroying his shields, which would cause him an unknown amount of pain, albeit pain that he could eventually heal from. He had chosen the lesser of the two evils.

Albus shifted uncomfortably in his chair watching the Potions Master as he slept. This was the third day Severus had been unconscious, the shock from his mental shields completely obliterating proving to be too much for even him to deal with.

His mind at the moment was in a very vulnerable state. As the Headmaster told Poppy, the sudden exposure after years of protection had been too much for his brain to process. He was undergoing a sensory overload that made every sound, every touch, everything visual stimulation too much.

It had happened to Albus once—having his shields completely destroyed. It was back when he was a younger, impulsive, and fool-hardy wizard. Luckily, he had been able to rebuild his shields in a matter of days. However, those first few days had been torture, as his mind tried to put itself back together again, his headaches terrible, his body too sensitive to even the lightest of touches. It was not a situation he ever wanted to experience again.

So Albus could sympathize with the level of discomfort Severus was in right now. The next few days would be hard for the Potions Professor. Aside from the sensitivity he would also deal with uncontrollable mood swings, momentary gaps in his memory, and a shorter attention span. Perhaps he would watch over all of Severus' finals for him and just let the spy rest for the week.

The door to the room opened up, and Poppy slipped inside. She took a seat beside him, erecting a Privacy Charm so Severus wouldn't be disturbed by their talking.

"How is he today, Poppy?" Albus asked.

"Much better. His brain activity has returned to normal and I'm happy to report that there were no brain lesions," she said giving him a severe look. She still partially blamed him for the boy's current state.

Albus looked ahead. "Good, good."

"He was lucky, Albus. He was very lucky."

He hummed in agreement knowing where she was going.

"Next time he might not be so lucky. No wizard can keep up with this abuse without permanent consequences. And what he's doing with his mind—it's not natural! One day you won't be able to get him out and then what?" She huffed, her fingers twisting into her skirts.

"I know," Albus responded on a whisper. That was the worst part of it all. He was well aware that Severus couldn't keep up with this forever. He mind was already starting to resist their failsafes. But what could he say? He couldn't order Severus to stop doing it. The boy only did it in extreme circumstances. To ask him to stop would expose him to Tom and guarantee a very slow and painful death.

The only real solution was to get Severus out, but then how would they get the vital information on Tom's movements that they needed to end the war? They may have Lady Malfoy now as a possible replacement, but what if she couldn't do the job, or worse, betrayed them?

_Too many decisions to make…_

He rubbed at his tired eyes. He was getting too old for this. He had been through two wars already, and this one seemed to be stretching out too far for him to see a possible end. There were so many questions that needed answers. How many good men and women would they lose before it was over? When would it end? Would they even win?

There was a possibility, a glimmer of hope for them, in the form of three young Gryffindors. Harry had always been at the center of it, tied to Tom and this war since the day the fallen wizard had singled him out, but now there was Miss Granger, her involvement growing with each day. If she could indeed get Miss Rosier's Reservoir Stone fixed…And the young Master Weasley; he wasn't sure what role he was to play in all of this, but he had a feeling that it would soon reveal itself.

The strands of fate had woven themselves around those three irrevocably. Destiny had plans for them, of that he was sure.

Ah, but his mind was rambling now. Slowly he stood up, his knees creaking from stiffness. There was much he still needed to do, many decisions to make and what not. Severus' warning for Miss Granger would be the first thing on his list. He would have to come up with some plans for keeping her safe now that Tom had verified her identity.

He sighed, knowing that he was in for a long night. Perhaps he would stop by the kitchens first and see if he could snag a Cauldron Cake…

"Are you leaving," Poppy asked, quietly.

"Hmmm," he murmured, making his way to the door. "Inform me when Severus wakes up, if you will."

"Of course, Headmaster," Poppy said. She paused, eyeing him narrowly, even as he smiled at her innocently. "Albus, you're not heading to the kitchens, are you?"

"Oh, I'm much too tired for that tonight," he said, avoiding the question.

"That wasn't an answer," she stated, and wagged her finger at him. "You've already had three Lemon tarts today. I'm cutting you off. You need to watch your health!"

Albus nodded respectfully. "Of course, Poppy, of course. You have my word that I won't touch another Lemon Tart today."

Poppy watched him suspiciously, before nodding in satisfaction and turning back to her patient, effectively dismissing him. Grinning mischievously, Albus tip-toed out of the room and the infirmary. He took a left turn down the hall in the opposite direction of his office and towards the kitchens, where he knew the Elves had a new batch of Cauldron Cakes waiting for him, whistling the entire way.

What Poppy didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

* * *

**A/N: ok definitely wanted to end that on a happier note than the beginning. Poor Severus, I've put him through a lot—so sorry! (TT_TT) Oh and I just want to clarify that Severus does not actually condone using random women as shields, that was just a byproduct of the Occlumency. **

**so Severus will be a little out of control...wonder who he'll run into in the next chapter...hmmm...**

**Remember to review!~**


	29. Check Ups and Mess Ups

**Thank you everyone that reviewed! They were awesome to read! And holy crap! I'm almost at 300, which is bananas! **

**I've gone posted more deleted scenes if you wanted to check them out. They're under the 'What's in a Name' story now, which I think is where I'll just put all my deleted scenes. Cuz I got a few. So check em out and let me know what you think! **

**And big thanks to my betas Emilia Wolfe and McGonagall's Bola!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Last time:_

_His conscious self, shimmering with the bright and dark colors of his emotions and thoughts, stood inside the cave. His hand ran over a long pod of ice that sat in the very center of the damp cavern. It was a perfect sphere of ice, unnaturally round and clear like an oversized glass bead. The door at the top of the pod was already open and waiting for him._

_Stepping inside before he could change his mind, he settled down in the hollowed out space, and closed himself in. As the door sealed shut, the ice from the shell spread over him in a cold blanket. The world around him dimmed, color leeching out until he was seeing in only various shades of grey, definition was lost as everything became dull and flat. Eventually his world froze over._

* * *

Chapter 28

"How are you feeling today?"

"Fine."

"How have the headaches been?"

"Fine."

"And the repairs to your mental shields?"

"Fine."

Poppy put down her quill and clipboard, and rubbed at her eyes tiredly. She watched Severus twitching in his seat, his arms crossed and slouched over like a child about to be sent to his room. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. The Potions Professor was a terrible patient on a normal day, prone to ignoring her orders and declaring himself fit far before she gave the go ahead, but in his current condition he was an absolute nightmare. That he would be difficult and uncooperative during their nightly check ups, was a given.

It had been eight long days since Severus had returned to them in that dreadful state, but he was already walking around as if none of it had even happened. Likely, he was just hoping hat she would forget the whole incident too and that would never happen. Every time the spy came back to them, broken and bleeding, was another memory etched into her mind forever. Especially this last time.

Those first few days had been agony watching over him. She could still clearly picture him in the back room. Curled up on the bed in the dark, rocking himself gently with his hands gripping his head and muttering to himself. His pained cries had intermingled with frantic sobs and manic laughter at odd intervals, as his emotions all warred for dominance at once. The cacophony of sounds had been not unlike what she had witnessed during her internship in the Janus Thickey Ward and she had feared for the poor boy's future.

She had been tempted, so very tempted to send him St. Mungo's, then and there, where he could be treated more efficiently, but Albus had stayed her hand, reassuring her that Severus would be alright.

So she sat on her heels, and waited and watched over Severus as he struggled against his own mind, her heart breaking with ever whimper and cry. However, by the third day, she could see it. The old Severus emerging slowly. The glazed look in his eye fading, the crazed mutters ceasing, the trembling calming. On the fifth morning when he had made some sarcastic quip about his breakfast, she had nearly hugged him in relief. That relief and affection was still there, even now when Severus was being an unbelievable thorn in her side, in need of a healthy wallop to the head.

"I'm going to need more than just 'fine' Severus. I know that these check ups aren't your favorite thing, but if you want me to give Albus the O.K., you'll need to show a little more effort."

Severus glared at her, his mouth pulling down in a disgusted frown. "And what would I be getting an O.K. for? Exams are over and the little brats are leaving tomorrow."

"The 'O.K.' has nothing to do with the children, it has to do with whether or not you'll be given leave to go back to your rooms or leave the castle."

Severus sat up, his eyes wide. "You can't make me stay. The school year is over! You're under no obligation to treat me anymore."

Poppy glowered at her over the rim of her reading glasses. "My obligation is to see to your health. I care about you Severus, the school protocol is not my priority. If I believe you will heal faster here at the castle, then I'll have no qualms with body binding you to a bed myself," she told him, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

Severus deflated, avoiding her gaze. A stray tear peeked out of the corner of his eye and he quickly wiped at it in frustration.

_Patient is still having trouble controlling his emotions,_ she jotted down in her notes. "Now that that has been addressed. Are you ready to begin?"

Severus noddeded silently, his cheeks reddening, reminding Poppy of the awkward first year that had sat in her office the first week of school, a bruise on the side of his face, and his head turned away to hide his embarrassed tears.

"We'll start with your memory."

He grunted in reply.

"What did you have for breakfast this morning?" She picked her quill back up, ready to take notes.

"A bowl of unrecognizable sludge that was as tasteless as it was visual unappealing. I'm assuming that it was procured from the bottom of the Black Lake," he grumbled.

"Severus." Her tone a crisp warning. "I will be more than happy to get you more of that _sludge _tomorrow morning as well."

He huffed indignantly, but still corrected his answer. "I had a bowl of oatmeal."

Satisfied, she nodded, checking off his answer on the exam sheet. "And for lunch?"

"Buttered toast and tea."

Another check. "And for dinner?"

"A bowl of chicken broth and bread."

She checked off the final box, ignoring the muttered, "dish water," said under Severus' breath.

"And what was the picture I had shown you at last night's check up?"

There was no answer. She looked up to see Severus peering out of the window, the fingers of his right hand drumming rapidly on the arm of his chair.

_Patient is still easily distracted, _she wrote down, before leaning forward to gently place her hand on his, stilling his movements.

He flinched, snatching his hand back. "What?!" he practically growled at her.

Far from impressed she merely raised her brow at him. "I asked you a question. What was the picture I had shown you last night?"

"A painting of the Goblin Wars, and the Battle of Red Hill."

"Good. And the one from the night before that?"

"A muggle portrait of a girl at the beach."

"And the one before that?"

"A lake house." He bounced his leg, slouching forward in his chair. His eyes darted around the room, as if he were looking for an escape. "Are we done yet?"

_Level of impatience is still abnormal, and patient is still highly paranoid, though no longer trying to escape from the room, so a marked improvement in that area. _

_ "_I just need to do a quick physical and then your free to go." She gathered up her wand, motioning for him to come sit on the medical bed.

She was quick about the examination, more than aware that in his current condition, Severus was liable to hex her and flee if she took too long. When she was done, she quickly wrote down the results she had gleaned from the diagnoses.

"Brain activity is good, eye sight has returned to normal, the muscles within the ear canal are perfectly healed, ribs have been repaired, scarring on the left leg has been minimized and your nerves seem to be functioning properly again," Poppy told him with a smile. "We'll need to keep on eye on those headaches though and the repairs to your mental guard. You said that they were nearly complete last session, yes?"

Severus hummed distractedly as he looked intensely at the door. His leg once again bouncing as if he were getting ready to take off at any moment. Rolling her eyes at sight, Poppy closed his folder. "Alright, I think we're done—"

Severus shot up, his hand outstretched and ready to grab the doorknob.

"Wait!" She said halting the jittery man. She grabbed two vials and hurried over to his side before he could disappear on her. "Take these before you go. The first vial is a pain reliever for your headache. I want you to take three drops when you wake up and three at night." He took the first one, dropping it into his pocket and Poppy pointed to the second one. "And this is a Calming Draught. It should help you balance out your emotions."

He stiffened, eyeing the potion with distaste. "I do not _need _help with controlling my emotions," he hissed like a puffed up cat. "I am perfectly in control of my own body!"

_Here we go_. Poppy shoved the potion at him firmly. "Who is the Mediwitch here?! If I say you need to take some Calming Draught, then you damn well better take it mister! You've been all over the place lately."

"I have not!" he argued back childishly.

"You made poor Mr. Binkley cry!"

"The snot-nosed urchin deserved it! He made fun of my robes!" Severus crossed his arms with a pout.

"He's a child! Children do those kinds of things occasionally. Do I need to remind you that _you_ were the adult in that situation?"

"Exactly. I was the adult and his superior. He should have given me respect!"

"You weren't even supposed to be out of your rooms," Poppy reminded him sternly.

"I was hungry and I didn't want to eat anymore slop," he said defensively.

"Oh, for the love of—" she paused to collect herself before resuming in a calmer tone. "Severus, just trust me when I say you need to take the Calming Draught. I'm just concerned for you, you know that."

He sneered at her, gathering his robes around himself protectively, that crazed look in his eye returning. "Concerned for me? Or them? That the vicious Dungeon Bat will break all your precious little angels with his biting tongue?" His eyes narrowed at her with mistrust and hurt.

"Severus," she began a hand already reaching for him to console.

He jerked away from her, opening the door and stepping out. "Save your empty platitudes. I neither want nor need them." The door slammed shut behind him.

Heaving a sigh, Poppy went back to her desk and dropped in her chair. "Well that went splendidly," she said to the empty room. "Jogger!"

A House Elf appeared in front of her, bowing. She held out the vial of Calming Draught to him. "Jogger, can you please bring this potion to Professor Snape's room? Put it right by his bed, if you please."

The Elf bowed again. "Of course, Madam Pomfrey. Jogger will make sure the Potions Master gets it."

When the little Elf popped away, Poppy pulled the folder back to her and opened up to her last page of notes. She dipped her quill in some fresh ink and wrote down, _Patient's emotional stability still compromised. It may take some time before he is back to his usual level of control. However, his being a hard-headed mule, is NOT helping._

She shut the folder shut with a dainty sniff.

* * *

Severus stormed down the Hallway, his mind a chaotic disarray of anger, betrayal, grief and more anger. Even as he knew in the back of his mind that Poppy was one of the very few people in this castle who was always honest with him and whose concern for him was genuine. Still he couldn't help feeling so damn angry and…he couldn't even find the word for it.

Whirling around, he struck out his fist, the flesh of his knuckles connecting with the metal rim of a window in a satisfying way. He felt a small trickle of blood slide down his hand from the torn skin, and a pulsing pain that suggested he might have fractured a knuckle bone or two.

Poppy was going to kill him. Probably, maybe. If decided to tell her. He might not now, not if she was only going to shove more potions down his throat. She probably didn't even care what she was putting in his system anymore. He could see the exasperation in her face, the way her face scrunched up in pity and displeasure when he came for his check up.

_She's just like the rest of them. Smiling in your face and breathing contempt behind your back._

_No, no. Not right. Poppy is one of the few people I can actually stand in this Hell hole._

_ But do you really know her?_

_ Yes._

_ …Maybe?_

_ No, she cares. She took care of me when I was in school. Even when Albus didn't. Got to remember that. I can trust Poppy. I can trust her._

He leaned his head against the glass of the window, banging it against the cool surface softly, trying to rid the nagging thoughts from his mind. Maybe he should have taken that Calming Draught with him.

_NO! I don't need it. I'm stronger than this. I can't let the Dark Lord win._

He opened his eyes to look out at the Black Lake, the rippling water glittering underneath the moonlight. He stilled, when he saw a dark blob…a person? walking down the beach. He couldn't make out much except that he was almost positive the person was wearing student robes. Which meant—

A student was wondering outside after curfew.

The corners of his mouth rose cruelly, and in the next instant he was gone, running down to the halls and towards the south entrance by the lake, his grin feral and predatory.

* * *

Hermione walked along the Black Lake, her foot kicking at the odd pebble or two.

It had been a good decision to come out here tonight instead of heading to the library. As much as she loved being surrounded by her books tonight was the kind of night that was too perfect to stay cooped up inside. She remembered when she was younger, how her father would come knocking on her door on nights like this, tent poles and canvas in hand, urging her outside. They would spend hours out in their little backyard, hovering over their homemade telescope. Her father would point out different constellations and her mom would roast up some marshmallows for them to snack on after.

Her father would have loved this; the warm summer air, the fresh breeze, the gentle sounds of water lapping against the shore and buzzing insects. It was peaceful, lovely and perfect. But more importantly, it was a drastic change from the pandemonium occurring in the Gryffindor tower at the moment.

The havoc was to be expected, she supposed. It was the last night of the school year, and the train would be arriving in the morning to whisk them all away for the summer, so the tower had become hive of high-energy activity. The last minute procrastinators scrambling around in the dorm rooms, frantically trying to gather up all of their things, while the rest of the House had been downstairs in the common room, celebrating the completion of their finals and NEWTs.

Someone, she believed it was Dean, had enlarged their Wizarding radio, enhancing the sound with an Amplifying Charm. Then Vince Harlow had brought out his stash of Weasley joke products, setting them off with cackling glee. Soon after, a chest of alcohol had been dumped infront of the Fireplace (though how it was smuggled into the school was still a mystery) and then things had quickly devolved from there.

It wasn't long after that that Hermione had decided she had had her fill of drunk teenagers and blaring music for the night. So she had snuck out, narrowly avoiding her friends before they could stop her and cajole her to stay. As much as she loved her friends, she wouldn't put up with that ruckus even for them.

Up ahead, she spotted a large boulder with a flat top that would make an adequate seat. She easily shimmied up the hard surface easily, and after squirming around, testing her new perch for the most comfortable spot, she laid down on her back. Her arms stretched behind her hands and her legs swinging down the side. She stared up at the clear night sky and took in a deep breath of the crisp, cool air.

_This_, this is what she had been looking for. Peace and quiet and precious solitude.

Tomorrow, summer vacation would officially start and her "break" would end. It was back to the grind for her, trying to crack Fera's Reservoir Stone, and studying for her NEWTs—well she had already been doing the studying bit, so that wasn't the stressful part. It was trying to balance it all and whatever new recruit tasks Tonks had been telling her about, along with it. She was excited, but nervous as well. What if she couldn't keep up with them? What if their trust was misplaced? What if she wasn't as reliable or smart as she thought she was and couldn't get the job done?

What if, what if, what if…There were so many uncertainties and so little time to tackle them all. But she would give it her best! She had promised Fera after all, and she didn't want to let her mentor down!

_You can do this! _she encouraged herself, mentally steeling herself against any further negative thoughts. She would be fine. Her professors already said she was doing well in her studies for NEWTs. The practice exams and the extra study sessions they offered her were great and once she got Snape on board to help her with Fera's research she would be fine.

As if he had been summoned by her thoughts, the man in question came barreling down the beach, his robes whipping angrily behind him. _Well speak of the devil, and he shall appear. _She opened her mouth to greet him when his voice snapped out.

"What are you doing out of bed!" Snape barked, menacingly. His steps faltered once he caught sight of her and his face scrunched up in distaste, as he practically spat out accusingly, "Granger!"

She blinked against the harsh tone, wondering what on Earth she could have done to make him so mad at her. She scrambled down the boulder eyeing him nervously as he approached.

"Good evening, Professor. Are you feeling better?"

He ignored her. "Do you know what time it is?"

_Well, if you can be that rude, you must be feeling better, _she thought, mentally rolling her eyes. At least he was back on his feet, so there was that. Aloud, she said, "Um, 10:30, I guess."

"It's 10:48 at night," he informed her briskly. "Students aren't allowed outside the castle after 10."

_What? _"But, I'm not a student anymore. I'm exempt," she reminded him, confused. Had he forgotten already?

Her words were like a spark to gunpowder, setting off Snape's temper instantly. "Well, that makes it okay then, doesn't it!" he bellowed, and Hermione had to take a step back from the force of his anger. "The Dark Lord is only more determined than ever to capture you, but it doesn't matter! You're _exempt. _So why shouldn't you wander around without a care in the world?"

Yes, she knew about the present situation. Professor Dumbledore had taken her aside and explained how Voldemort had somehow seen through their ruse. The Headmaster was still trying to figure out how. It was something she was determined to figure out as well, but right now she was more focused on the trouble brewing in front of her with Snape.

There was an odd glint in his eyes that Hermione hadn't noticed before, a glint that spoke of something unstable and savage. A weird feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong with the professor, something she couldn't quite place, but the situation suddenly felt very dangerous.

"Um, I understand your concerns, but Voldemort can't get onto school grounds. I'm perfectly safe here," she tried to calmly explain it to him, her hands out in a placating gesture, as if she were trying to ward off a dangerous animal.

"SAFE?!" he shouted back, incredulously. "Has that thick mane finally clogged up your brain or are you truly that witless? When the Dark Lord is after you, there is no 'safe' place!"

"I can protect myself," she gritted out.

Snape stared at her blankly, his eyes locked on her face as if he were remembering something far away. He shook his head abruptly, muttering to himself too low for her to hear and then—he laughed? It was an honest to God, full bellied laugh. She looked on, shocked to her very core, even as a small part of her brain registered that he was most definitely laughing _at_ her and not with her.

He smiled at her, an almost pleasant expression if not for the vein of derision lurking underneath it. "You can protect yourself? Ha! If the Dark Lord truly came after you, Granger, you would be dead before you could lift up your wand."

Why? Because she was a Muggle-born? A girl? A bookworm who spent more time surrounded by old tomes than people? Her body practically vibrated with anger now. She wanted to scream, to shake him until he understood that she wasn't some weak damsel in distress. She wasn't as good a fighter as Harry, she knew that. She also knew that her offensive spells could use some work, but she was a Gryffindor too, dammit! She was a fighter! She wasn't weak and she wasn't useless!

"I might not be the best fighter," she relented and wanted to smack the grin off his face when it grew with the admission. "BUT, I'm not an easy target. I _can_ and _will_ fight!"

He stared at her plainly, his grin dimming down. His dark eyes studied her with a quiet intensity, as if he were delving into the layered depths of her body and down to the core of her soul. It was the thousand yard stare of a master Legilimens, perfected and sharpened like a blade in his gaze. Hermione subtly checked her mental shields, gratified when they seemed to be undisturbed and in perfect order.

After a moment, he finally nodded and then with a serious tone he said, "Very well. Let's see you fight then." Then with a snap of his fingers he was gone.

She spun around on the now deserted shore, disbelief making her heart race. A thought that Snape had been serious had entered her mind but she shot that absurd notion down quickly. This was her professor, she had been his student. They warred with one another, she made brash statements, he did his aggressive looming thing, but that was as far as it ever went. There was always a line, an inborn knowledge that their verbal sparring was the summit of their aggression, the peak with which they knew to never exceed.

A stunner flashed to her right and Hermione had just enough time to leap out of the way before the spell could knock her out in one fell swoop. She landed hard on her hip, the jagged edge of a rock below her digging into the flesh there. A stray thought, that a nasty bruise awaited her in the morning, was all she had time to think of before the spells began flying again.

_What the hell?! He can't be doing this for real!_

But it seemed liked he could and would be doing this, and if she had any desire to make it out of this is one piece, she would have to fight back. Her feet dug into the sand, tripping over themselves, as she raced for the cover of the boulder. Snape still had yet to be seen, or heard, but that was fine. It was okay. _It's OKAY_, she told herself, because she could disappear too, and then they'd be on level playing fields.

"Gravittum Nubulam," she whispered, drawing sharp circles in the air. A dense rope of fog spilled from the tip of her wand, rapidly engulfing her and the surrounding area. Once she was sufficiently covered she started moving carefully along the side of the boulder, mindful that the fog would only protect for so long. One strong gust of wind and she would be exposed again, fighting off an invisible opponent. She would have to make use of the precious few seconds she had left. She had a plan but there was only a fifty-fifty chance that it would actually work.

Quickly she disillusioned herself, and began drawing water from the lake in a thin stream, redirecting it to the sand around her, coating the ground in a barely there layer of moisture. Not enough to raise any alarms, mind you, but just enough. She flattened herself against the boulder, and tried to calm her heart beat as she waited.

Just as she knew it would, a roaring gale of wind came whipping around her, dismantling her barrier of fog. Snape stood in the very center of the storm, casually glancing around, his wand placidly laying by his side.

Springing into action before he could get the upper hand again, Hermione froze the puddle of water under him, imprisoning his feet in an icy cage. Not stopping, she threw a Body Bind at him, magically trapping his arms as well. He looked up startled, the last thing he saw was Hermione's smug grin, before she threw a stunner at him. His body crumpled to the ground, marking his defeat.

Victory was sweet indeed.

"Take that!" she whooped, throwing up her arms triumphantly. _Ha! Now who can't lift up their wand!_

"You shouldn't celebrate so early," came Snape's voice to her left. Her head jerked around, staring at the now conscious and clearly not trapped man standing before her.

"But, how did you…" she looked back to where he was supposed to be laying on the ground and she saw nothing but a puddle and wet sand. She pointed to the spot in disbelief, then back to the wizard in question. "How did you do that? I got—"

"An illusion," Snape supplied, grinning maliciously at her. "You Gryffindors make it too easy." Like a cobra striking, his arm snapped up and he threw the Lumos Solem Charm at her faster than she could hope to block it. She stumbled back, the beam of bright light rendering her as useless as a newborn fawn. She clutched at her stinging, watering eyes, as she tried to retreat, but a misstep sent her falling to ground before she could get far.

_Shit! Shit! Shit! _

She could hear the sound of sand crunching under Snape's boots as he approached. Fumbling with her wand, she blindly cast a Protego Charm, hoping that it would give her enough time to recoup so she could find an escape. She struggled back to her feet, gripping her wand wildly in front of her.

"Desperation does not suit you, Granger."

She felt the first hex rattle against her shield and she winced at the strength behind it. She pored a bit more magic into her shield, but it proved to mean little against the onslaught of Snape's attack. Spell after spell, he threw, chipping away at her shield with a methodical patience. She felt herself tiring, her magic slipping up, flowing out at a sluggish pace. Sweat gathered on her brow. Eventually, she couldn't hold on any longer and her shield shattered.

Out of breath, and energy, Hermione stumbled forward, blinking away the sun spots still lingering in her eyesight. When her vision cleared, she realized that Snape was gone, yet again. The relief that brought lasted but a moment, before she felt a presence materialize behind her and the tip of a wand against her throat.

Snape leaned down, his breath tickling her ear, as he whispered, "Too easy." His wand pushed in a bit further, not enough to hurt her, but enough to send a message, a dark promise of eminent pain.

There was a moment of panic, in which every cell of her body became entirely aware of the danger it was in, of the deadly predator poised at her back ready to sink it's teeth into the vulnerable flesh of her neck, but that moment was brief, fueled by adrenaline and fear. As her heartbeat calmed down, rationality returned to her and she remembered that it was her professor, who had risked his life to save her on more than one occasion, at her back and not an enemy.

With more bravado than confidence, she raised her chin. "You won't do it."

He chuckled softly. "You would be foolish to put your trust in a Death Eater."

"EX."

"What?" Snape frowned down at her.

"You're an Ex-Death Eater, not a real one. You're a spy now. There's a difference," she clarified, with the same brisk tones she would (and had) used on Ron and Harry whenever they started grumbling about the Potion Master's true allegiance.

This time the laugh was bitter. "Was. Am. It is all the same thing."

"No it's not," she persisted, "A Death Eater—a real one, wouldn't hesitate to kill a Mud-blood like me."

"Don't say that word!" he snarled out, startling her.

"Why not? It's just a word," she argued, "just like Voldemort is just a name. Even If I'm a Mud—"

The wand dug deeper into her neck. "Don't," he repeated, his tongue clicking on the T.

She licked her lips nervously and corrected herself, having no desire to push him too far. "Even if I'm a Muggle-born. I'm proud to be one. There isn't anything a Pure-blood can do that I can't, and I won't let a bunch of bigoted fools convince me otherwise."

"Convince you otherwise?" He scoffed. "Clearly you do not know whom you are dealing with."

"I know exactly what kind of people I'm dealing with. If you'll remember, I've fought them before and lived."

"You _lived_ because the Order had arrived just in time to save your collective hides. In a real fight, you would have been as helpless as you are now. Trapped and unable to even fight back," he spat at her tauntingly.

There was that word again. _Helpless. _It burned her pride, especially now in the face of her defeat, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth that she couldn't swallow. She bit her lip as renewed anger kindled back to life, racing up her spine like a shock of electricity. Without thought, the remainder of her magic pooled together, bursting out of her on a wave that dislodged her from Snape's arms and knocked them both to the ground. Her head slammed into the ground as she landed and she groaned at the dull pain thumping in the back of her skull.

_Well, that was stupid of me_, she thought in a brief moment of clarity.

She turned on her side, coughing when that seemed to make breathing even more difficult. Her lungs burned as she tried to push more air into them, taking in ragged gulps that would force the organs to expand and contract as they were meant to. Still a little wheezy, but better now, she strained to sit up on the ground, but her arms quickly gave out, and she landed back down with an 'oof'.

_Okay, I guess I'll be staying on the ground then. Not the most ideal place to sleep but at least it has a view…_

"That," Snape groused, pushing himself up off the ground. His robes were hanging off his shoulder, the collar of his white shirt askew and his hair hung low in his face, barely concealing the pair of angry glittering eyes watching her keenly "—was an incredibly stupid thing to do," he finished on his next breath.

She hummed in agreement, having already come to that conclusion. _Truly, extraordinarily stupid indeed. _A giggle escaped her when she noticed that her mental voice had sounded just like her professor, making this entire situation even more absurd, which of course just made her giggle harder. Absently she noted that all this giggling could be a sign of head trauma and that she might need medical attention now.

A shadow fell over her and she looked up to see Snape standing over her. He frowned in—worry? Anger? She couldn't tell which anymore, though the weird, dangerous look in his eyes had faded away. That was good. Her old professor was back. She closed her eyes sleepily, happy things had gone back to normal, or as normal as things got between them.

"Get up Granger, you need to go to the infirmary," he said. She heard him moving around, but stayed, unconcerned with whatever he was doing, her mind already on the wonderful nap she was about to have.

Someone shook her arm, jolting her awake. She blearily opened her eyes to find Snape kneeling in front of her, holding her up by her arms. "Don't fall asleep yet Granger," he demanded.

"But I'm sleepy," she murmured leaning in so she could burrow her face in his warm robes, his scent covering her face pleasantly. "S' soft." She clutched at his robes like she would a blanket.

A pair of hands pushed at her shoulder, trying to separate her from her soft blanket and she grumbled displeased. She clutched harder, wrapping her hands in the material for a better hold. There was an aggravated sigh above her and the hands finally stopped their shoving.

"You wouldn't be sleepy if you hadn't tried such an asinine move," he told her. "You might have freed yourself, but you expended too much energy and left yourself vulnerable to attack."

Hermione shook her head. That wasn't right. Her professor wouldn't have hurt her, she knew it, just as she knew gravity would keep her grounded on Earth, and that the Sun rose in the east every morning. "But you wouldn't. You're not…you're not like them. You won't hurt me."

He stiffened under her. "You know nothing about me!" His grip on her arms tightened, but not too painfully.

He had a point. Aside from what she had seen in class and their interactions as teacher and student, she didn't really know the man in front of her. She knew her professor, but she didn't actually know Severus Snape.

_But I'd like to, _she suddenly realized. Not in the capacity of getting to know a possible lab partner (though that was important to her), she also wanted to get to know the man who risked his life for the Order, who was constantly saving her life and who, in his unguarded moments, had a wicked sense of humor.

But what was the likelihood of Snape actually letting her get close enough for her to extend the hand of friendship? Sure they were both adults now, and no longer constrained by old roles of teacher and student. Technically speaking they were equals…sort of. At least to her they were. There was no saying whether Snape saw their situation the same way.

_Probably not…_

"You're right," she conceded for now, all of this thinking was making her head spin, "I don't know you. Not really…But, still. I trust you."

Snape looked down at her, visibly stunned.

"We should…" She struggled to get up, but the sudden movement went straight to her head, magnifying the pain. She slumped back down, blinking against the black dots invading her vision now. Exhaustion weighed down on her muscles, tugging at her mind as well. She wasn't going to make it to the infirmary on her own.

_Damn. Well no time like the present to test your theory, eh Hermione? _She looked up, tracing the pale blurred lines of his face as she smiled sheepishly. "It's good that I know you can be trusted, because I'm about to pass out and I would appreciate you not dropping me."

* * *

Years of honing his reflexes made snatching the witch's limp body up before she could tumble to the ground easy. He shifted her dead weight in his arms and looked around, waiting for this weird dream to be over.

_I trust you_.

He peered down at the young woman's face, confused and…pleased almost. Even in her delirium she had meant that statement. Her honesty and sincerity staring back at him plainly, as if it were the most simple thing in the world to have faith in a Death Eater—_Ex Death Eater, _his mind quickly corrected him in her voice.

_What an odd creature._

Suddenly remembering that the witch was injured and that he had just been staring down at her for God knows how long, he shook himself. With his wand, he quickly ran a Diagnostic Charm on her, satisfied when it showed Granger had incurred only minimal damage. A simple knot on the back of her head, easily cured with a Healing Charm and magical depletion, which could be explained away given her late-night study habits.

He was relieved. Not because he cared about the witch's well being—he didn't, but because he wouldn't have to explain to Poppy or Albus that he had pretty much attacked the young woman for no reason. Damn he had fucked up tonight. Why hadn't he listened to Poppy and taken the Calming Draught?

He scooped Granger up, resting her more securely in his arms and made his way back into the castle. He kept his head up, face forward, refusing to glance down at the tiny witch resting in his arms again, his instincts warning him that it would just lead him to trouble. What kind of trouble, he was unsure, and he had no desire to delve any deeper into it, because something told him he wouldn't like what he found out. Not at all.

So for once, he listened to himself, eyes glued to the hall in front of him, even when the witch let out small whimpers when she was jostled too hard. He gritted his teeth against the sound.

When he finally made it into the Infirmary, he rushed past Poppy's sputtering protests and practically dropped Granger on the nearest bed. The story he gave Poppy was the one he thought up at the lake; he had found her in the library knocked out and magically depleted, the result of studying too much, he guessed. Poppy had only been slightly suspicious.

He could only hope that Granger would stick to his script, but even if she didn't, he wasn't going to be around to find out. He didn't care what Poppy said about rest and recovery, he was escaping first thing in the morning. Somewhere far away, where he could finally put his head back on right, and castigate himself for his massive stupidity in private.

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**A/N: I'll be honest, that wasn't really the way I planned for them to bump into each other. the fight happening kind of came out of no where, but hope you still liked it. More to come soon. **

**Ta ta for now~**


	30. Lost Shoes and Useful Friends

**Another chapter up! Thank you for all the reviews and alerts they have been amazing! And of course, a giant thank you to my betas, Emilia Wolfe, and McGonagall's Bola.**

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**Chapter 29**

It had been awkward waking up in the infirmary, with no idea how she had gotten there. Even more awkward had been trying to weasel around Madame Pomfrey's probing question. Apparently, Snape had already set up a story. Overstudy. Cliche, but since it was her, believable as well. But she had no problem latching onto to it like a life line. If it would get her out of there faster than she was all for it.

Getting the kind matron to believe that she was fine, albeit a little tired, but still perfectly fine, had been a trial and in the end she hadn't been able to get away unscathed. A thorough examination, about three or four nutrient potions, and a 'hearty and nourishing breakfast' had been forced on her before she was given the all clear.

That had been around half past ten. Thankfully the train wouldn't be leaving until noon that day, so she had more than enough catch up with her friends for farewells. No doubt, they were all wondering where she had been all morning. God, she hoped Harry wasn't going to regress back into his panic/clingy mode. She did **not **want to deal with that again.

She turned a corner that would take her to the main stairway, not looking where she was going and collided with someone else. The two bodies fell to the ground in a tangle of robes, limbs and the softest exclamation of "oh" Hermione had ever heard.

"Oh geez, I'm so sorry," Hermione mumbled beneath the student—a Ravenclaw if their robes were anything to go by—that she was pinned under.

"It's no problem really," a breathy high voice answered. Luna got up, minding her knees and elbows so as not to hurt her friend. The blonde held out a hand and heaved her up. "As far as falls go, it was quite comfortable."

"Well, that's good, I suppose."

Luna looked at her oddly. "Were you running from a Crumple-horned Snorkack? You shouldn't be afraid. They may look frightening, but they're altogether harmless, you know."

"I—what? No! I was in a hurry to see everyone off before the train left," Hermione explained as patiently as she could.

"Are you not coming with us?"

"Well, no. I'm not sure if the boys have told you, but I'm actually doing my NEWTs early. So the Headmaster offered to let me stay over the summer to study for them," Hermione told her. "And—Luna, where are your shoes." She pointed down at her friends feet, which were only covered in blue and pink striped socks that were already getting dirty from running around the castle.

"I suspect the Nargles took them."

Hermione looked at her with a blank face. "The Nargles?" she repeated.

Luna nodded emphatically. "Oh yes, they seem to make a game of it every year. I always find them in a high up place."

Pity and a sharp sense of injustice weighed down on Hermione. Harry had told her about this last year. How the Ravenclaw would 'lose' many of her items that were later strewn about the castle. It happened to just her, no one else. Harry, who knew enough about bullies and their vicious jokes, suspected that it was Luna's dorm mates having a laugh at her, and Hermione had to agree. If not them, then some other group of malicious students. A good majority of the school only saw "Looney Lovegood" instead of Luna and were openly cruel to her for no other reason then they could be. 'Nargles' probably had nothing to do with it.

So, brushing off her jeans, Hermione motioned towards the stairs. "Have you tried upstairs yet?"

"No, I've just been on the main floor."

"Then let's go. We can start on the second floor and make our way up."

* * *

Blaise slid his nail file from his front pocket and began cleaning his nails, flicking out the small specks of dirt with a annoyed grimace. His nails were filthy, a by product of being a noble friend and helping Ignis chase his knarl after it had escaped its cage that morning. Murdoc, the blubbering idiot had tried to offer it a treat, and had appeared so shocked when it squeaked in outrage, scratched the boys hand and launched itself from the room.

While Ignis had been verbally flaying Murdoc, Blaise had begrudgingly trekked after the absurd little creature, not sure who he was more annoyed at. Murdoc, for not having enough brain cells to know by now that knarls only ever took food from a bonded owner, or at Ignis, for bringing the little bugger out of the woods where he found it and back to the dorms with him in the first place.

Of course Spike (because for all his intellect, Ignis had the creative capacity of a potato when it came to name giving), had decided to burrow into one of the potted plants in the common room. The sprinkle of displaced dirt ringing the ceramic pot was the only indication that he was there. Cooing and murmuring pleasantries to the beast only took him so far (he suspected Spike was smart enough to know he didn't mean any of it), so he had to finally resort to digging it out, caking his arms in a layer of _dirt. _

Like all of the plants in the school, the dirt the Cymbidium Orchids were in was magically enhanced fertilizer, which meant it was naturally resistant to many charms, including those of the cleaning variety. When he had marched back into his rooms with Spike, Ignis had taken one look at his dirty hands and cloudy face and snatched his pet away. Three cauldron cakes and a promise to ride Ignis' new broom over the summer were given as compensation for his help.

He flicked another piece of dirt out his nails and held his hand out to survey the damage. It was better, not nearly as perfectly kept as he liked them to be, but it was better.

"Master Zabini?"

Blaise looked over his shoulder and into the oil painting just behind him. A small man in green velvet robes came to the edge of the painting, the brush strokes making up his image were barely noticeable.

"Ah Claude, good to see you again. What do you have for me?"

"The girl you were looking for, Miss Granger, is on the second floor in the E wing with a friend," the painted man replied.

"Friend? Which one, Potter or Weasley?"

"Neither actually. I believe it is a Miss Lovegood that she is in the company of."

Blaise scratched his chin in thought. He had been hoping to talk to Granger alone. The less personalities he had to maneuver around the better, but with all things considered, Lovegood wasn't too bad of an add on. At the very least, the blonde would be more amiable than either of the notoriously hot-headed, anti-Slytherin boys.

"Do you know what they're doing there?"

The painted man sniffed. "Yes, they are looking for Miss Lovegood's shoes. The poor girl."

"Oh?" Blaise motioned for him to elaborate.

"A group of brutish rapscallions, your housemates if I'm not mistaken, had taken the young lady's shoes this morning as some sort of joke. And it is an atrocious one, if I may say so. Not at all sporting. In my day, a gentleman treated a lady with the respect and deference they were due."

"Hmm, I quite agree with you on that one. Children can be quite insufferable."

Sir Claude bristled with outrage. "These were fifth years. One could hardly call them children."

Blaise nodded in understanding. "Unfortunately, age is rarely equivalent to maturity, for all that we might hope it be. It is such a hardship to be surrounded by Philistines." Not a lie. He had never been a fan of the crude, uncivilized behavior his House often exhibited. It was beneath them, or it was at least, certainly beneath _him. _Calm, complete control was superior to bully tactics and loud barking.

More often than not, he left them to it, content, at least, in his own superiority. He couldn't let it go now though, not when their immaturity could possibly get in the way of his meticulously crafted plans.

_Unless…_he paused in thought, as a new idea came to him. Yes, he could not only do damage control, but if he spun this right, he just might be able to turn it into an opportunity.

"Do you know where the shoes are?" he asked Claude.

Seeing the determined look on Blaise's face, the portrait smiled. "Not at present. If you would give me but a moment, I will locate them post haste."

"Very well." Blaise moved back to the wall to wait. True to his word, Sir Claude was came back only a few minutes later, feeling very satisfied.

"I have found them! They are by the North Tower, hanging on one of the high windowsills by the Divination classroom. The young ladies have just moved up to the third floor, so if you are quick about it, you can grab the shoes and catch up to them."

"Thank you, Sir Claude. As always you have been an invaluable help," Blaise said with a respectful nod.

Claude gave a small, proud bow to him in return. "It is always a pleasure to work with the noble house of Zabini. It brings back very agreeable memories from when I was alive. Send my warm regards to your mother, if you will."

"Of course, thank you."

Sir Claude walked off into the painting, most likely heading back to his own portrait and Blaise followed suit, pushing off the wall and heading to the North Tower. He had some shoes to find and some important allies to endear himself to.

* * *

The door opened to the classroom, and Hermione sighed in frustration. "They're not in here either, Luna. I think we should move on to the next room."

"Not Lovegood, I'm afraid."

Hermione gasped, and turned around.

Blaise had sauntered into the room, hands behind his back, and looked it over. His finger ran over a desk top and he grimaced at the fine layer of dust he had gathered on it. "What a dreadful room. Why in Merlin's beard are you down here?" he asked by way of greeting.

"I'm looking for something," Hermione replied, wary but not panicking. She didn't really know where she stood with the allusive Slytherin, but he was acting friendly enough at the moment, and had been the past few times she had seen him.

"I ran into your little friend in the hallway just now. By the state of her feet I can only assume that the shoes I found in North Tower were hers."

Hermione stopped what she was doing. "You found Luna's sneakers?"

"They were by the Divination Classroom. Trelawny said, her 'inner eye' told her they belonged to a Ravenclaw. More likely, she just saw the Ravenclaw pin on the tongue of the right shoe and was trying to hob it off as mystical," he said with derision, his tone betraying exactly how he felt about the wonky professor.

His obvious mutual dislike of the proclaimed "seer" surprised Hermione, because while only a few students like Parvati and Lavender worshipped the ground on which Trelawny walked, the rest of the school seemed to accept or at least tolerate her presence. She had yet to find someone who so outright disliked the Divination professor as she did.

"You don't believe she has the sight?" Hermione asked, because she couldn't help herself.

Blaise shrugged. "Whether she does or doesn't is immaterial to me. I simply cannot suffer fools who are more invested in their image than their productivity. Form is always appreciated, but it is useless without perfect function."

"That's an interesting way to put it," she conceded.

"Thank you."

Hermione huffed at his ever present smirk. Did the boy never let the poker face drop? "Either way, did you return Luna's shoes to her?"

"Of course. She was putting them on in the hallway before I popped in here."

"Then why hasn't she come back in?" Hermione asked heading for the door. Luna, she found, was just outside the classroom, conversing with one of the portraits, her sneakers already back on her feet. The blonde looked up when Hermione walked out the room.

"Are you already finished with your conversation?" Luna asked.

"Conversation?" Hermione asked. She could feel rather than see Blaise stepping from the room too and moving off to the side, a polite distance away.

Luna looked between her and Blaise curiously. "You haven't then. I'll leave you to it." She turned to go when Hermione reached out to grab her arm.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Down to the train to wait. It seems like Blaise really wants to talk to you. Something important, I would guess. In any case, he doesn't really want me here, he's just too polite to say so." Far from being insulted, Luna smiled serenely at them, waved goodbye and walked away.

Hermione turned to Blaise. "You wanted to talk to me," she stated rather than asked. While Luna had some rather eccentric views on the world, she was usually very perceptive when it came to humans, so if Hermione would believe her.

Blaise, who was still looking down at the now empty hall mystified, hummed in agreement. "Yes, I did. Interesting friend you have there."

"Thank you," Hermione said, repeating his earlier words. Blaise smirked in amusement then motioned to the room again.

"Well, as your friend said, I did wish to speak to you, and would like to do so before the train arrives. After you."

Hermione eyed both the door and Zabini. "How do I know this isn't a trap?"

"It could be, but then is that really something a friend would do to you?"

"So you're my friend now?"

"I can be," he answered, for once bereft of his usual air of guile and mystery. He seemed sincere in what he was saying and Hermione couldn't detect any malice coming from the Slytherin that suggested he was out to hurt her. And he had been popping up a lot lately, his sudden presence always seeming to help rather than hinder her.

Tonks had suggested it was on purpose, that he was a possible ally, a hypothesis that Hermione was leaning towards as well. The thought prompted her to relax her guard a little. There was no use in screaming bloody murder if he was just here to talk. If he was, indeed, a part of the Red Dragon, as she thought he might be, then running the wizard off before he could say his piece would only lose her a potential ally.

Decision made, Hermione walked into the room, saying, "Fine. Then let's talk."

Blaise shut the door behind him after he entered, and erected Privacy Wards.

"So," Hermione began when the silence got to be too much. "You want to be my 'friend', only I don't know what you mean by that. Or, I do have an inkling, but I need you to spell it out. No cryptic messages, or half truths. It's either complete transparency or I walk away."

"You would walk away from a potential alliance?"

"Is that what you're offering? Because if it is, then I would expect a _potential_ _ally_ to understand that I would settle for nothing less than complete honesty. This war is hard enough without having to deal with backstabbing and infighting."

Blaise's smirk softened to something almost genuine. "That sounds more than fair. As long as you know that equal does entail _both_ sides being on the same page."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Hermione agreed. If Blaise was really offering her what she thought he was, and if he was genuine, then she would make sure everyone in the Order honored whatever pact they might make, because she had meant what she said. This war was too hard, it was costing too many lives and doing too much damage for them to all turn on each other. If they didn't stay united, they would destroy themselves before Voldemort even got to them.

Floating two chairs over, Blaise held out her chair before he took his seat. "Now that the waters have been thoroughly tested, I'm assuming we can get to the meat of the conversation."

"I'm satisfied for the moment, at least," Hermione said, then because she was a Gryffindor and had no interest in beating around the bush, especially when there were lives on the line, she asked, "You work for Red Dragon?"

Blaise blinked, possibly not expecting the frank question, or perhaps the contents of said question. "I'll admit to being surprised. From what I've heard, Red Dragon's inception is hardly public knowledge. Quite the opposite in fact."

"I overheard a conversation by accident"— _and some that were not so accidental_—"and it was mentioned." Hermione tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. "I did some research into the organization, I guess you could call it, and found out that you might be connected to the movement. You've been helping a lot of students from what I hear."

Blaise appeared thoroughly amused by her. "Some research? Were I fly on that wall."

A blush spread across her cheeks at the comment, still she persisted. "Well, are you?"

"I do work for Red Dragon, yes," he answered simply. "It's on their behalf that I'm reaching out to you today, in hopes that we can come to an understanding."

"The understanding that we both want Voldemort and his little cronies to die a horrible death," Hermione clarified for him.

"Exactly," he laughed, and leaned forward. "We want to bring this war to a speedy end, with Tom on the losing side. And that's just one of our goals."

"So why me?"

"Because you and your friends seem to be the only ones fighting back. Your Dumbledore's Army—yes, I've heard about your group—have fought Riddle's forces and you've survived. More importantly, Potter holds the weight of Great Britain on his shoulders. Everyone is looking to him to fix this mess, so if he really is the linchpin, then we want to help him.

"So why not go to him?" she asked. "No, never mind. Harry sees all Slytherins as all the same. He wouldn't want to listen to you."

"But you would." It was a question and confirmation all in one.

"But I would," she echoed in agreement.

She stood up to leave. "I'll talk to Harry for you," she promised him. She wasn't sure how Harry would take this new situation. He had made it no secret how he felt about the Snakes. But maybe, before she talked to Harry she would have a word with the Headmaster. The Order could probably benefit from an alliance with Red Dragon. They were doing good work, something she could personally confirm. Dumbledore would want to look into it at least. "But, I may have a better connection for you."

"Do you?" Blaise asked pleasantly, his head tilted curiously. "And what would this connection be?"

Hermione shook her head. "I can't say. Not yet." She dug into her pocket, pulling out the DA coin that she always kept on her and handed it to him. "Here, keep this on you. When I'm ready to set up a meeting, I'll contact you."

She showed him how to use the coin, then stepped back. Blaise eyed the coin, fascinated.

"I look forward to hearing from you, Granger."

"Don't make me regret this, Zabini," she called back, leaving the room. She almost missed the, "wouldn't dream of it," he shot back at her.

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**A/N: As always, Review please~**

**Thanks for reading!**


	31. Sad farewells and Deadly Ambushes

**Thank you! Thank you, for the reviews! **

**Was a little bit tardy with this update, but it is _long._ Hopefully you'll like the ride it takes you on. The war starts to pick up and shit gets real...**

**Will be grammarized later!**

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Chapter 30

"Where is she? Train's gonna leave any second now."

Harry stretched up, eyes peeled and searching for Hermione's curly head among the throng of students loitering by the tracks. It was now 11:50, and in exactly ten minutes the train would be leaving the school grounds, whether Harry got to say his goodbyes or not. The Hogwarts Express waited for no one.

Hermione _knew _that. Had promised, even, that she would be down here extra early so they could have a proper goodbye. So where was she?

"Harry! Ron!"

A knot of tension released in his chest, as Hermione came running up to them. He found himself drifting closer, his subconscious reaching out to validate her continued existence, something that he found himself struggling with even weeks after her return. He hadn't been quite able to quash the fear of losing her again, that stab of panic that rose every time she was out of sight, the whispering thoughts that said this time just might be the last time he saw her. Ridiculous, yeah, but there it was.

"I'm so glad I caught you in time!" she panted.

Ron patted her back. "Wasn't sure you'd make it for a second there. What happened?"

"Luna 'lost' her shoes. I was helping her find them," she offered, sharing a significant look with Harry.

"Again?"

"Yeah."

"Wait, sorry, what's going on?" Ron interrupted them.

Harry shook his head. Luna's secrets weren't his to tell. And while he would love to help his friend, it was hard to do so when the airy witch refused to talk about it, insisting instead that it was always the Nargles. And he couldn't hex a Nargle. "It's nothing. I'm glad you could make it anyway, Hermione."

"This is going to be weird. You staying behind like this," Ron mumbled.

"Yeah, but we'll see each other before school starts again. We always do." She nudged the redhead's arm playfully.

"Hopefully, it'll be sooner than later," Harry responded, "I'm not sure how long I can take the Dursleys anymore."

"Cheer up, mate," Ron told him, "Give it a month and you'll be legal. Then you won't ever have to see them again."

"36 days," came his quick reply. 36 days, 12 hours and 53 minutes, but who was counting?

Behind them the train's whistle blew. The few students outside began to scurry towards it.

"Shoot!" Hermione snatched them into a hug. "I'll miss you guys!"

Ron squeezed her back. "You'll stop by the Burrow, right? Mum, would love to have you."

"I'll be there, first break I get."

"And I'll write you, I promise," Harry whispered into her hair.

"You better. And…"

"What's the matter?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing. I'll tell you later when I visit."

"You're still coming for my birthday?"

"Wouldn't miss it," she promised. "And Harry, be safe, please."

"I will—well I'll try. You know danger seems to follow me everywhere I go," he laughed.

It was a running joke between the friends…and the professors, and the students, and portraits, and probably the ghosts too. Honestly, it had almost become a bit of a Hogwarts tradition. Wherever trouble occurred, look to the left and you might see Harry Potter there, accidentally caught in the thick of it.

"Even more reason to be careful," she chuckled with him. "I'll see you soon, yeah?"

"Don't forget!"

"I won't."

The goodbye was just as bad as he thought it would be. He didn't let her see it, but it still twisted his gut, watching her fade out of view through the train's window. Only this time, the panic was compounded with unease, a strange sense that the world was shifting into something unrecognizable and there was no way to stop it.

"It feels wrong, doesn't it?" Ron said beside him in their compartment. "Just leaving without her. She should be here with us."

"It's different," Luna spoke up from behind her book, "but sometimes different is good."

"I'm not entirely sure about that, Luna," Harry replied, still looking out of the window at the dreary scenery passing by. "Sometimes different just makes things worse."

* * *

Crusted over eyes gently pried open, and Severus "woke up". Though, waking up might not have been the correct term to use since it wrongfully implied some rest was had before hand, and that was certainly not the case for him. He did not feel rested, rejuvenated, or otherwise restored. His current state was more akin to a reanimation after death, to the gasp of life returning to a cold, stiff body, like the vampire his students so often portrayed him as.

His head dropped to the floor with a thunk and he didn't even have the energy to wince at the rattle of pain through his skull. He was _dying_, he was sure of it. So what did it matter if a migraine was trying to hammer through his brain while he lay there? Damn he was thirsty…He smacked his lips together, smoothing his tongue over the roof of his mouth and teeth to rid himself of the unpleasant 'fuzz' lingering there.

Where was he? The answer alluded him, racing away just out of his grasp. He felt around with the one arm that wasn't currently pinned under his stomach, his fingers skimming across the edge of a lush, black rug—his rug; he recognized it—and a hardwood floor.

It seemed he was on the ground, in his sitting room, to be exact, but the real question was how he had gotten there. Bracing himself with his hands, he tried to heave himself up, only to almost immediately topple back down, when a wave of dizziness set his eyes crossing. Nausea crept up his throat, but he willfully stamped it down. He was in no mood to throw up all over his expensive Persian rug, Dirt Resisting Charms or not.

His elbows flopped back down, and bumped into something. The soft clink of glass being knocked over had him sluggishly directing his head towards the noise, to discover a very empty wine bottle. A bottle of enchanted vintage Fae wine that he had been, until last night, saving for a special occasion. A special occasion in which he would desperately lose himself to oblivion.

Then again, if last night hadn't been the perfect time to try and scrub away his brain with alcohol, than what could have been. He groaned to himself, just remembering it all. So, _so, _many terrible choices made.

He should have taken the fucking Calming Draught from Poppy like she had said he damn well needed. Instead, he had to go running through the halls to chase down a random student and egg her into a fight. A fight which inevitably lead to her being hospitalized because of his cock up. And it hadn't been just any student had it? Oh no! Fate was entirely too much of a bitch to let him off easy, because of course it had to be Granger. When wasn't it ever Granger?!

"Shit." She would be in the castle now, knocked out in the infirmary and still healing because she had "trusted" him. Yeah, a lot of good that trust did her.

He should probably get out of there. Albus and Poppy were bound to find out what happened the moment the little chit woke up, and it would be best if he wasn't around for that. He didn't think an excuse like, 'I was feeling a little confrontational at the moment', would go over well with them.

A bell pinged and he looked around wildly, cursing to himself. Had he already been caught? It sounded like it had come from just out his door. Was Poppy out there now, rope in hand, ready to string him up? The rest of the staff were probably right behind her, pitch forks and torches in hand, prepared to drive off the beast that had harmed their darling, star student.

The bell pinged again.

But he didn't have a doorbell in his rooms. He was in Hogwarts, not Spinners End, so there couldn't be anyone there. In fact, the doorbell at his home didn't even sound like that, it sounded like…His head jerked towards his bedroom. He hurried to his room, stumbling on the way, and opened the drawer to his night stand.

He picked up the well worn journal inside and flipped open to the first page, reading the message that had just arrived. It was short and to the point, like most of Narcissa's messages but even still, it made his blood run cold.

Snapping the journal shut, he ran to his Floo, all thoughts of escaping forgotten, because if this message was right…

He tossed in a handful of Floo powder, shouting out, "Headmaster's office!" and let the green flames take him away.

* * *

"Oh! It's good to see you, Harry!"

Mrs. Weasley's arms tightened around him, and he gasped out a shaky laugh. He couldn't quite breathe, but he wouldn't tell her to stop. He had missed her famous, bone crushing hugs fiercely. It would most likely be the last bit of affection he would get for a while, so he was going to soak it all up while he could.

"Mom, give him a break, yeah? He can barely breathe," Ron said, exasperated. "You'll be all over the Prophet for suffocating the _Boy-Who-Lived_."

"Hush," Mrs. Weasley admonished her son. "Now, Harry, have you got everything?"

"Yes Ma'am. And thanks for the sweets," he said, indicating the basket of goodies she had given him. They would be the highlight of his holiday, a little piece of solace while he was with the Dursley. He was going to have to guard them viciously if he didn't want Dudley sticking his nose in it.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Mrs. Weasley whispered to him with a secretive smile, "Don't you worry about your cousin. I've put a couple of surprises on it, to warn off wandering fingers."

Harry smiled devilishly. "Thanks."

The Weasley matriarch cupped his cheek. "Of course, dear. If you need anything—**anything** at all, we can be there in a wink."

"I'll be fine," he told her, his grin only partially strained.

A gaggle of reporters flew by, their energetic bustling pushing the smaller group of four out of the way. Harry barely had time to catch Ginny before she was knocked to the ground.

"Bloody parasites," the young witch muttered, righting her robes as she glared after them. The reporters had all swarmed around Malfoy (who was visibly preening at the recognition) and his companion, who was a towering, imperious looking man, who seemed to have stepped right off the pages of Bram Stroker's _Dracula_. He was the very picture of a foreboding, aristocratic vampire lord.

_Him and Snape would probably get along great, _Harry snorted to himself.

Ron scoffed beside him. "Look at him. Puffing out his chest over there. So some wizard picked him up. What's the big deal?"

The crowd was growing, and more and more people were taking an interest in the mystery wizard.

"That's Potion Master Ives, idiot. Malfoy _should_ be puffing out his chest," Ginny informed her brother.

"Ginerva, don't call your brother names," her mother chided her.

"Who's Master Ives?" Harry asked.

"Someone very important," Mrs. Weasley said, "Come on, lets move out the way." She hustled the three Gryffindors off to the side, taking them closer to Professor Burbage and the group of Muggle-borns she was taking across the wall. When the Muggle Studies professor saw Harry, she began waving at him to join them. The Gryffindor took that as his cue to leave.

"Well, it looks like Professor Burbage is rounding up our group. I better get going," he told the people who were for all intents and purposes his real family.

"Oh! Give us a hug then!" Mrs. Weasley pulled him in again, then passed him off to her children to give their own goodbyes. And then they were gone, and Harry was alone in the middle of an ever growing and overly eager crowd.

He waded through them as best he could, infinitely relieved when he finally reached the Muggle Studies professor, glasses and body in tact. The other students, a group of a little more than three dozen students, were already there. Most were Muggle-born, but there were a few Half-bloods like Harry, that either lived with Muggle relatives or whose family simply chose to live in the Muggle world. He saw Justin Finch-Fletchley towards the front and nodded at him.

The professor's quill flicked through the air, as she checked his name off the list. "Welcome, Mr. Potter. I believe that makes everyone. Now, before we cross over to your families, are there any last minute questions? No? Nothing?"

The group remained silent.

"Splendid! On we go!"

One by one, the students shuffled through the wall. Harry, ever reluctant to leave the Wizarding world behind, brought up the rear. Years of coming and going, through what appeared to be a solid object still disoriented him, and while he refrained from flinching or screeching like the first years, Harry's eyes still clenched shut as the magical doorway shifted around him.

"Absolutely horrid, innit?" A tall blonde Hufflepuff said, shivering. "It's cool, alright. In its own way, but down right weird."

"Yeah."

Most of the parents were already there, hovering around the wall and talking amongst themselves. It was as if a bubble had formed around them, separating them from the other Muggles rushing by, whose eyes never strayed towards the area for more than a split second.

As Harry suspected his Aunt was not among the waiting party. She would be the last to arrive, maybe even be an hour or two late much to his mortification. Professor Burbage was always a good sport about her tardiness, having learned over the course of Harry's six years that Petunia Dursley was as untimely (at least when it came to Harry) as she was unpleasant, and no amount of kindly delivered suggestions could change that.

"And there they go again." The Hufflepuff from earlier came to slouch against the wall by him. He nodded towards a couple who was enthusiastically conversing with the professor. "Once my dad gets going, there's no stopping him. Oh! Sorry, mate, I'm just gabbing on at ya like you know me. I'm Ted." He held out his hand.

"I'm—"

"Harry Potter. Course everyone knows that."

"Yeah, I guess so." Harry shifted uncomfortably.

Ted laughed at his expression. "I'm not about to go all dopey-eyed on you. Promise. I'll have _you_ know, I come from a long line of heroes myself."

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked, feeling strangely comfortable around this guy. He had never noticed him before, but there was something about him, in the way he carried himself, that was welcoming and oddly familiar.

"Yup, my granddad was the head of Scotland Yard actually, and I have loads of cousins on the force too. Seems to be the family business."

"What about you?"

Ted gave him a secret smile. "I don't know. I think I'd do well as an Auror. Ever think about it yourself? I hear you're into saving the occasional damsel in distress."

Harry flushed at the praise. "I've thought about it, yeah. I mean, I do like helping people."

"And you're damn good at it, if rumors are to be believed."

"Uh thanks. It's just a thought for now though. I'll have to pass my NEWTs first before I can do anything."

"Well I think—GET DOWN!"

Ted dragged him down, his lanky frame covering him, as the wall behind them exploded. Destroyed brick fell on top of them, barely deflected in time by the older student's shield. Screams of panic filled the air, as the students and their families made way for cover. Some of the parents just grabbed their kids and started running for the exits, more than used to the unknown by now to know that whatever was happening definitely fell into the _not_ good category.

Above them, a black cloud was forming on the ceiling, peals of lightening whipping out as if reaching for a fresh victim. The natural light in the station dimmed, the clear windows frosting over, as the chill emanating from the cloud swept over the entire building, bringing with it a heavy sense of dread.

What ever it was, it was too powerful to be concealed by the Muggle Repelling Charms around the platform, which cracked like an egg under the pressure. Muggle and Magic folk alike gaped at the looming sight, frozen in confused horror.

"Shit!" Ted rolled over, enough to give Harry space to breathe, and pulled out a small compact mirror that lit up when opened. "Mayberry, Toggs, report!"

"We're by the entrance, we have a group of students and their family with us. We tried to evacuate, but the wall isn't letting us through!"

"Fuck! Alright, as of right now, they are your personal responsibility, am I understood? Protect them until the reinforcements get here."

"Yes ma'am!"

"Ma'am," Harry mouthed, his ears ringing from the explosion. Had he just heard right?

Ted tapped on the screen with his thumb. "Rogers! We have a possible class nine situation. Where's my backup?"

"On their way, ma'am. Should be there in 6 minutes."

"Why the fuck aren't they apparating in?" Ted demanded.

"They didn't want to break the statute. Grimes wanted them to move in quietly."

"There's a giant goddamn cloud floating above us that's shooting lightening out of its arse! Tell Grimes, he can piss on his precious statute because we're already fucked! I need men, now!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Ted got up, grabbing onto Harry's robe and tugging the younger boy behind him. A strip of lightening flashed towards them, which the Hufflepuff deftly parried. "Stay close to me, Harry. What ever you do. DO NOT LEAVE MY SIDE. Do you understand?"

"What's going on? And who are you? The-the-they were calling you ma'am."

"Not important right now. Honestly, Harry. Priorities," Ted grunted, and deflected another flash of light. He dragged Harry over to a brick pillar, yanking him down to the floor, before peaking over the edge.

Seven columns of dark smoke snaked from the cloud, twirling through the air in frayed zigzags, before touching the ground. It had gone oddly quiet, confusion and utter disbelief preventing most of the Muggles from fleeing, because how could this be real? How could this not be some cheap parlor trick designed by some flaky reality show, that would show up any moment now, camera crew and cheesy host at hand?

A deep, rusty laugh pierced the quiet, and it was like a switch going off. Bursting through the smoke, A Death Eater in an intricately carved gold and white skull mask charged forward, six other Death Eaters right on his heel.

Chaos ensued.

Spells were carelessly flung through the air, catching innocent bystanders as they tried to flee. A stationmaster was struck in the back by a hex, blood sprayed like a faucet behind him as he fell to his knees. A couple that had been huddled behind a brick pillar for cover, was crushed under the debris, as it exploded above them. A teenage boy with a purple mohawk, tried to fight back, but before his skateboard could slam down on his attacker, he was struck with the Killing Curse and he fell to the ground dead. The Death Eater he had tried to strike, cackled with his comrade as they stood over his corpse.

Ted's father and mother were suddenly there, wands out and striking back. Their Muggle clothes had transformed into the crisp blue robes of the Auror Department.

They moved as one, dueling both Death Eaters. Their superior skills clearly outmatching their opponents. But just as they seemed to have victory close at hand, knocking one of the Death Eaters unconscious and critically wounding the other, four other Death Eaters jumped in, picking up the slack of their brethren, and the Aurors faltered. Because five against even two highly skilled duelists were not favorable odds and soon the Aurors were moving on the defensive, retreating while they struggled to hold them off.

Surprisingly, Professor Burbage moved forward, stepping in between the Death Eaters and the children, her normally perky smile was replaced with a fierce scowl, the likes of which Harry had never seen on the witch. In her absence, the older students, headed by Justin, moved to the front of the group ready to protect the younger years and their loved ones should the adults fall. The DA member began shouting orders to the large group, instructing those who were skilled enough in making a Protego Charm to protect the area. Those that couldn't add to the shield were told to start firing randomly at their opponent.

"I don't care if you can only conjure a bubble. Do it anyway and try to send it over there," Justin yelled above the chaos to one first year, and she nodded in determination. Harry slumped in relief, proud of his fellow DA member and the way he had taken charge to protect the other students.

But he needed to be over there. He needed to help them, because even with Justin and the professor lending a hand, the odds were not stacked in their favor. They wouldn't be able to hold out much longer and he would never forgive himself if he just let them die.

"Potter!" The leader of the group bellowed from the center of the platform. He prowled the space, his shoulders hunched as if he were about to shift into a Bloodhound and sniff out his prey. "Where are you boy! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

He looped his wand in the air, sending any object in his path flying away. One unfortunate woman was not able to move away fast enough and was magically snatched up, her terrified body lifted into the air, and flung aside like a used toy that had gotten in the way. Her body hit a wall with a sickening crack, and she crumpled to the ground, a pool of blood gathering around her.

A streak of pink was all Harry saw in his peripherals, and the world seemed to slow as a little girl, no more than four years old, ran out from behind a turned over cart, and towards the woman. The desperate cry of, "mommy," spurred Harry into action and before he could think he was running out from his hiding spot and towards her. He dived for the girl, twisting his body as he landed so that he was covering her, and braced for the spell that had been flying her way.

It never came.

Ted stood in front of him, a crackling green shield raised, protecting them. "Hey do me a favor, Yaxley, and fuck off, will ya?"

Far from impressed, Yaxley took off his mask, it disappearing like smoke, and smiled at him. "Am I supposed to be frightened, little boy? Look around you, Mudblood. You are far outnumbered _and_ outclassed," he chuckled.

Ted gritted his teeth. "I am _far _from a little boy."

"Is that right?" Yaxley responded mockingly.

Ted's body began shifting. His blonde hair became pinker as it suddenly grew, his skin became paler, his face, more graceful and feminine. His body shrunk, losing a bit of height, while his hips stretched and he grew…boobs?

"Yeah," Tonks answered him, her eyes flashing, "And just for the record, the only thing you could ever outclass is a Flobberworm, and even that is a stretch."

"Ah, little Auror Tonks. I thought I had smelled something foul," Yaxley sneered.

Tonks arched an eyebrow. "Forget to shower again?"

Yaxley's smile disappeared. "When the Dark Lord is finished with you, you and every last filthy creature in your family will learn your place."

He snapped his wand towards her and an arc of hot flame whipped out. Tonks used her shield to deflect it, sending a Blinding Hex back, then doubled it with an Aqua Eructo. A jet of water streamed out from her wand that sent Yaxley and one of his cronies stumbling back. While he was distracted she cast a Disillusionment Spell on Harry and the girl.

"Go," she whispered to Harry, stopping him before he could protest, "You need to get her to safety. Take her to your professor. She should be safe with the other students."

"But what about you?" Harry asked, because leaving her behind like this just felt so wrong.

"I can take care of myself. At least until the Order gets here. Now move before you get her killed!" She shoved him away, and Harry picked up the still sobbing girl, and for once did what he was told. He ran, ducking through the fighting, and dodging stray spells.

He was ushered inside of the students shield circle, and immediately, one of the mothers came forward, gently relieving Harry of his burden.

"Poor thing," the woman whispered, and made shushing noises to the distraught child in an attempt to soothe her. It worked, even only marginally and the girl's sobs were reduced to slow hiccups.

"We can't keep this up for much longer," Justin told him, his face had become drawn out and pale.

Harry feared that the Hufflepuff was right. Their group, while faring better than would be expected of just students and their Muggle parents, was holding on by a thread. A few of the first and second years were red-eyed, tears streaking down their face. They had only just dipped their toes into the magical world, had only confronted the wonder and beauty of it, and were horrified by the ugliness they were seeing now.

There had wounded too, far too many for them all to be helped. They had been pushed to the center of the dome, and laid out on make-shift cots. Their moans of pain commingled with the wales of despair coming from the truly unfortunate families that had lost loved ones during the initial ambush, creating a heavy blanket of doom in the atmosphere.

The few that were uninjured (or as the case was for so many of them; less injured), were moving from person to person, making sure everyone was alright, helping those wounded as best they could, and were trying to calm down the Muggles stragglers that had scurried into their safe haven.

Those that could fight, and the number was laughably small, were looking just as depleted at Justin, from either firing at the Death Eaters or from keeping the shield up. The lot of them were about to drop.

A hex bashed against the shield, and everyone inside flinched away from it. Justin scrambled to reseal the crack that had just appeared.

"The shield won't hold out much longer!" Justin told him. "We're toast!"

"Stand back," Harry instructed him and raised his wand. "Protego Totalum!" His arms moved in the intricate circle motion that Hermione had drilled into his head. It wasn't as elegant as the brunette's movements, and the shield would probably be clunky and awkwardly shaped, but where Harry lacked in finesse and skill, he made up for in power. If nothing else, he had learned that he was a deft hand at pouring power into a spell, so that's what he did.

The shield dome above them lost its watery appearance and solidified into a hard glass. As he'd expected, it was woefully misshapen, and the glass itself was murky, nothing at all like the invisible, perfectly shaped cup Hermione had conjured, but the spells that were fired at them bounced off of it harmlessly and no cracks were in sight. It was doing its job, and that's all that mattered to Harry.

Those on the front lines, slumped in relief, letting their wand arms finally drop, and a cheer went up through the dome. Several hands clapped him on the back. There was hope, it was tentative and weak, but it was there.

"That was amazing!" Justin marveled, his hand touched the surface of the glass. "Please tell me we're learning this in the DA next."

"Hermione will teach you, if you want." Harry shook his head. "It won't hold for that long. Maybe only a few minutes, but it should hold out until back up arrives."

"Someone's coming?" Justin breathed of in relief. "I thought the Ministry was gonna leave us for dead."

Harry frowned, but said nothing, because he agreed with him. His dealings with the Ministry of Magic always left a sour taste in his mouth. He didn't trust the Magical government to have his back and probably never would, not as long as those bigoted Pure-bloods were running the show. But it wasn't the Ministry Harry was expecting, it was the Order, which he knew, without a doubt, would show up to rescue them. Dumbledore, at least, wouldn't let them down like the Ministry would.

"Not the Ministry, but I can guarantee you that someone is on their way now. We'll be fine," Harry asserted. He grabbed Justin's shoulder, looking him in the eye. "I need you to watch over them, until help arrives. Can you do that?"

"What are you on about, Harry? Where are you going?"

"I need to go back for Tonks. I can't leave her out there alone."

"Are you insane?!" Justin grabbed his robe. "You'll get killed if you go out there."

Harry shrugged him off. "And she'll get killed if I don't." He stepped through the shield, ignoring the Hufflepuff's shouts of protest. His voice was cut off as the shield moved back in place, the glass becoming whole and smooth again.

A spell greeted him, and he barely ducked in time to avoid having his head chopped off. His cheek stung, blood trickling down from the cut now there and he cursed. He would have to be more careful. He couldn't help anyone if he were dead.

He shot off a stunner towards the Death Eater that had shot at him, hitting the man in the chest. He fell back, like a pile of logs, and Harry quickly bound him up in a body bind. The Death Eater would be easy pickings for the Order when they got here.

"Nice shot, Mr. Potter!" Professor Burbage yelled to him, as she whipped up a net of tangled vines and threw it at one of the Death Eaters. He wasn't able to dodge it completely and it caught him on the ankle, sending him flying to the ground. Harry watched the professor with new eyes. She was bloody, and panting, and her left arm was hanging uselessly by her side, but she was still fighting, standing protectively in front of the dome.

He raced by her, sending another stunner to the Death Eater she had felled, so the bastard would stay down. She smiled in thanks quickly, before turning back to the fight, already squaring away with the next opponent.

He jumped over a fallen cart as he ran, dashing towards a pillar to use as cover against a stray Bombarda. Or maybe it wasn't a stray spell. In the chaos of it all, he couldn't tell who was actively trying to kill him and who wasn't. He sent a jinx blindly back towards the general area the Bombarda had come from, and prayed that it hit something.

He caught sight of Tonks dueling against Yaxley and another Death Eater in the center of the next platform. Her movements were jerky and her reflexes were slowing down. She was expending a lot of energy fighting against two wizards, especially one of Yaxely's caliber, and she wouldn't be able to hold out for much longer. She needed help.

Taking a deep breath to sooth the burning in his lungs, Harry gripped his wand and charged into battle. Yaxley, was unfortunately too skilled for him to handle. The liquid grace, and power the man yielded in battle was something that even Harry had to bitterly acknowledge was too much for him. So he aimed for the other flunky. Throwing a Jelly Leg jinx at him to distract him from Tonks.

It wasn't enough to actually catch the man, who jumped out of the way and sent back a counter attack. The Death Eater pointed his wand to the ground and a crack erupted through the cement, snaking towards Harry. The ground shook and Harry lost his footing. He fell back, his wand slipping out of his hand from the impact and he scrambled for it.

"Accio—"

"Expelliarmus!" The Death Eater yelled before he summoned the wand. It flew into the other man's hand, and he tucked it into the front of his belt. "The Dark Lord has been looking for you, Potter. He'll be very pleased when I bring you to him," he informed the Gryffindor smugly as he moved to stand over him.

With magic out of the equation, Harry took a page out of Hermione's book and resorted to a more hands on approach. He struck out with his foot, his heel colliding painfully with the wizard's knee. The physical assault shocked the man so much that he fell to the side, dropping his wand, and clutching at his leg, while he howled in pain.

Harry grabbed at his wand while the Death Eater was down. He was just about to scoot away with his prize when the wizard grabbed at him, his hand clamping down on Harry's wrist painfully.

"You fucking brat!" he spat, shoving Harry back to the ground. His wand was knocked out of his hand again, and he nearly screamed in frustration.

Harry kicked at the wizard's wand, sending it rattling away of the side of the platform and below onto the tracks. At least the playing ground would be even. Snarling in rage, the Death Eater punched him in the face so hard his glasses were knocked off, and Harry saw stars. A hand clamped around his throat, and the young wizard clawed at it, bringing his knee up roughly to hit the wizard in the stomach.

With a grunt, the Death Eater loosened his grip. It was enough for Harry to break free, and twisting around he began crawling towards his wand. A weight fell on top of his back and Harry dropped to the ground. He didn't even look up, he just blindly reached for his wand. He was so close!

_Almost there. Almost there! ALMOST THERE!_

"I'll take great pleasure in watching the Dark Lord rip you a part!" The Death Eater growled, pressing down further on the young wizard's back. A flash of silver whipped though the air, and a cold blade embedded itself through the back of Harry's outstretched hand, and into the floor.

Harry cried out in pain, his mind reeling against the burning heat in his appendage. And then, all of a sudden the weight on top of him was gone, and the blade was being pulled out of his hand. He cradled his hand in his chest and sluggishly turned around, his bleary eyes trying to focus on the figure now standing above him.

"You're alright now, boy. We've got you," a raspy voice said to him. He knew that voice, but between the ringing in his head, the pain in his hand and the sheer exhaustion that was now catching up with him, he couldn't bring himself to care. He felt himself being lifted into the air.

"Harry?!" A concerned voice shouted. He knew that voice too…weird. A shadowy face hovered over him. "We need to get him to a healer."

"Let Albus know I'm taking him to Headquarters."

The shadow man moved closer and whispered in Harry's ear. "You'll be just fine, Harry. Hang in there."

Harry's eyes drooped closed, his head lolled back and he finally lost himself to unconsciousness.

* * *

**A/N: Voldemort's first attack! And so the war officially begins. I gotta tell you, this was supposed to end waaaay different, but I wanted to make Harry fighting as realistic as possible. So no easy wins for him, but he'll survive. And I like the way this ended much more. **

**Up next: Healing, an Order meeting and Hermione confronts Severus about the other night. (hehehehe)**

**~As always, Review!**


	32. Guilty Feelings and Sleeping Dragons

**So sorry for the wait! (TT^TT) **

* * *

Chapter 31

"Where is he?" Hermione burst through the Floo at Headquarters, frantically searching the front room as if Harry would be waiting for her by the coat hanger. But of course he wasn't there. He was holed up somewhere in the house half dead, because SHE HADN'T BEEN THERE.

Her friend, her _best friend_ been out there fighting for his life, and likely others' as well, while she had been hidden away in the library, a cosy book in her lap and a tea tray by her side. The guilt was suffocating.

She knew she was no seer. She couldn't have mapped out today any better than Trelawney with her dime store crystals. And yet, that was no excuse. The year had been much too normal for Harry, and Voldemort had been much too quiet. She should have suspected something like this would happen. Something always happened!

"Hermione?" Remus appeared around the corner, tired and disheveled.

"Professor, how is he?"

Remus ushered her forward, wrapping his arm around her shoulder in comfort. It was a testament to his current shambled state, that he didn't automatically refute the title and demand she use his name again.

"He's doing well. Better than we thought."

"Oh, thank God," she sighed.

"Have you heard about what happened?"

"Only some of it."

"It was an ambush," Remus supplied. "We had set up a few Aurors to watch over the children, but it was just a precaution. We hadn't been expecting You-Know-Who to attack them."

"He's done it before," Hermione grimaced, memories of her own escapades fighting Voldemort's forces fresh on her mind. She had learned early on that _nothing_ was sacred to the despot, not even innocent children.

Remus shared a look with her. "True, but there were pure-blood kids there and we thought…it doesn't matter what we thought. The situation deteriorated before we could get it back under control."

"How bad was it?"

"We lost two of the parents, we could possibly lose a third if St. Mungos can't save him. Most of the students were wounded, four of them seriously. It's possible that one may never fully recover, and there were six bystander casualties."

_Eight dead, possibly nine…_Hermione closed her eyes, shutting out the pain the thought caused. She didn't care if she knew them or not, someone out there had known them, had _loved _them, and now they would never see them again.

"Our men took a hit as well. Charity and the Aurors on duty took the worst of it, but they're all alive…" _For now._ She could tell he dreaded thinking it, she dreaded the words herself.

She brushed her hair away from her face, taking a moment. "Where's Harry?"

"Down here."

He took her down the hall to the music room, which had been turned into a makeshift infirmary. White cots had been set up in neat rows, and all manner of people, Order members, house elves, and nurses were running to and fro. The grand piano that had been situated in the center of the room was no where to be seen.

Madame Pomfrey bustled by them, an empty potion vial in her hand. Professor Lupin held out a hand to stop her.

"Poppy, has she…?"

"I'm sorry, Remus, still no response." She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "She's resting is all. She'll be awake in no time. Be patient with her."

"Ah, well. I'll just…" He pointed vaguely to the right, his mood visibly drooping.

"Go to her. I'm sure she would love seeing a friendly face when she wakes," the older witch told him kindly, then left to tend her other patients.

Hermione followed him a few cots down where the once lively Auror was resting.

"Oh Tonks," she sighed. Her skin was swollen, mottled with bruises, and scratches. There was even a golf ball sized burn mark by her ear. And her hair…oh, her poor hair. Half of it looked like someone had taken a chain saw to it. Tonks would be absolutely furious if—NO—_when_ she woke up.

"She went up against Yaxley by herself. Daft girl," Remus spoke softly, his gaze fixed on Tonks' face. He was leaning forward on the small seat by her bed, his hands folded and resting under his chin. "From what I hear, she gave as good as she got."

"Of course she did. This is Tonks we're talking about."

"Poppy says that it looks much worse than it is and she'll be up by morning."

Hermione rested her hand on his shoulder. "Then she will be."

"She's precious to me," he admitted, "I can't…not again…"

Her heart cracked a little at the broken confession, for the fragile man teetering on the edge of madness. He had lost so much, his closest friends, his family. He was a monster to the world, and treated with barely covered disdain. That he was alive and not locked away somewhere was fortunate, that he had found someone who loved him despite his ailment and station (and Hermione knew without a doubt that Tonks loved the older wizard fiercely), was a miracle. As he said, Tonks truly was a precious gift.

"She'll be fine," she asserted. "You won't lose her, Remus."

Remus slumped, his head falling forward. Squeezing his shoulder in comfort, Hermione left him to his thoughts, and began to search for Harry.

Not long into it, she found him in the back of the room, lying peacefully on his cot. He was already surrounded by a group of somber Redheads. Molly was sitting beside her husband with Ron and Ginny taking up vigil on either side of their healing friend. The twins were standing by them at the foot of the bed.

Hermione couldn't remember a time when the rambunctious family was this silent. It added a new dimension of depression to the circumstances.

Molly was the first to spot her hovering nearby, and immediately rose to scoop her up into a bone crushing hug. She was enveloped into their group, given a seat so she could fully commiserate with them, while keeping a hopeful eye on Harry.

* * *

She ended up staying with the Weasleys well into the night, standing guard at Harry's side. It was slowly pushing on two in the morning, and the activity in the sitting room had died down significantly. Some of the patients had been given leave to go by Madame Pomfrey early on. Professor Burbage was among them. The others, she didn't recognize.

Kingsley had arrived to transfer the two Aurors over to St. Murgos, stating something about covering tracks, and proper procedure. He had arranged for them to be under watch by men he knew he could trust.

Tonks wasn't leaving with them though. As a favor to Remus, Kinglsey had brought a packet of medical papers, signed by Tonks' mother, that allowed the Auror to recover there with Remus and the rest of the Order. 'Officially', the documents claimed that Tonks had been released by her family so she could be tended at home by a private physician—a not so far fetched occurrence, at it turned out. Apparently, most elite, Pure-blood families preferred to be treated in the privacy of their own homes (less gossip, and nosy busybodies) and Andromeda, while disowned in name, was still considered by many a member of the 'most noble and ancient house of Black.' So, in short, no one would turn their head at Tonks not being at St. Murgo's with the other Aurors, not even the Magical Law Enforcement department.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had stayed a little bit longer after that. Turning in only three hours ago. Fred and George departing for a room upstairs a little later. Now, it was basically just her, Ron and Ginny left now. Or well, it was her and two sleeping red-heads.

The siblings were currently slouched over, using each others' bodies to stay propped up while they slept away. It was quite funny watching them together. Even without the glaringly obvious physical similarities, the two _acted_ like they were siblings; jerking in their sleep in the same way, twitching their nose and snorting halfway awake, then murmuring back to sleep.

It was outright adorable, and the two would probably kill her if she ever brought it up.

And right on cue, brother and sister snorted, jerking forward, this time looking around blearily in confusion.

"S-wah?"

"Wazup?"

"Nothing you guys, go back to sleep."

Nodding back, they were slumped over again in a manner of seconds.

She decided that she might as well get up at that point too, and stretch her legs a bit, maybe get a bite to eat. The rest of the house, like the sitting room, had cleared out. It was effectively a ghost town now, empty and dark. She could hear the creaking of the old foundation, and the soft ticks of the grandfather clock upstairs and little else.

It always felt kind of creepy walking through the home during the night. The judgmental portraits on the wall that watched her progress didn't help either. Luckily, the kitchen wasn't far away, and even better, there were some scraps of leftovers in the fridge to make a decent enough sandwich. Her stomach gurgled happily as she grabbed a handful each and set about making something to eat.

After she finished, she gathered her dishes and placed them in the sink, frowning when she heard a dull thud instead of the clink of porcelain. Confused, she lifted the pile up gently and set it back down. This time it made the proper noise.

"Huh."

There was another thud, and her head snapped up. It sounded like it was coming from the front of the house. Was it an Order member? Another nurse? Curious, she sent the dishes down and went to investigate.

The noise traced back to front room where a man in black robes was entering the house. His head was angled away, but she got enough of a glimpse to know who it was. Professor Snape.

Her mind froze and she backed up around the corner. She took a steadying breath, wondering what she should do. The last time she had seen Snape she was barely holding onto consciousness, a state she had been in because she had just gotten her behind handed to her in a duel. How was she supposed to face him now?

Was she supposed to apologize? She might have wanted to before, and she still felt horrified for egging him on, but it wasn't as if she had been the only one fighting. HE had done just as much instigating as her. And HE was the one who had interrupted her on the beach. Before he had come charging over she had been doing nothing but peacefully watching the lake. Technically their was an equal amount of blame to go around.

But what if he wanted to forget it all? What if he was as loathed to bring it up as she was? Maybe she should write off the other day as a weird dream, and move on.

Walking away and trying to avoid him wasn't an option. They both worked in the Order and would likely run into each other here, at Headquarters. She was also staying at the school for the summer, so bumping into him there was a probability too. And call her crazy, but she was still hoping to get his help with Fera's research, and she couldn't do that if she couldn't even talk to the man.

There was nothing for it. She would have to go in there.

_Ok Hermione,_ she mentally rallied herself, _you're just going to have to do it. Just go in there! Rip the band-aid off and suck it up! _She slipped inside, before she could convince herself otherwise and hovered by the doorway.

Snape was slowly making his way to the nearest armchair, gripping the armrest and falling into it with a sigh. The sight he made, relaxing peacefully in the dark was both fascinating and disconcerting. With just the moonlight peaking through the window, his clothes seemed to become blacker and his skin, so pale already, faintly glowed. His calm stillness only added to the supernatural aura that surrounded him, and in that moment, she could believe those rumors of him being a vampire. She was almost loathe to disturb him.

"Professor?" She found herself saying into the silence.

His head came slowly up, one eye crept open and he calmly looked at her, and then dropped his head again. "Shit," he cursed under his breath, bringing a bemused grin to her lips.

Hermione stepped fully into the room, taking a seat across from him. Surprisingly, Snape didn't move from his spot, curse at her or bolt from the room. He was like a sleeping dragon, dangerous and still very much a dragon, but content enough that he just couldn't be bothered to eat you.

Maybe fate was smiling on her.

"Granger, why were you lurking in the shadows like a night wraith?" His words were slower and slightly slurred. Suddenly the pieces clicked together.

"Are you drunk?" she asked, astonished.

He grunted, slumping further into his chair. Not a confirmation, but it wasn't an outright denial either. He didn't seem like the kind of man to lose himself in a bottle. Sputtering drunkards hardly made good spies. Something had to have happened to drive him to it. Maybe Voldemort wasn't pleased with the outcome of today's ambush. Sure chaos was created and people were killed, but in the end Yaxley and his men had failed to capture Harry.

The thought worried her, enough that she had to ask.

"Are you ok, sir? Are you hurt?"

He waved his hand at her. "Please, spare me your bleeding heart antics. You Gryffindors are all alike, completely unbearable, the lot of you."

"Not insufferable?" She couldn't help but add, biting her lip to stop the smile.

Snape's eyes narrowed at her. "Extremely so, actually."

"I'll try to take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't."

She chuckled softly. She enjoyed this version of Snape. He was still highly snarky, and biting but he was also amusing, and that took the sting out of his insults. Sure, she might have felt a touch guilty about pushing her presence on him in his less than coherent state, but she couldn't find it in herself to walk away yet. She was having too much fun.

_Fun? Who in their right mind would equate Snape with fun?_ she asked herself, perplexed. Harry and Ron would be horrified to learn she actually enjoyed the Potions Professor's company, but in a way she did. Not in a classroom setting of course, he was ghastly in that respect, but outside the classroom, when it was just them, he wasn't that bad. Not counting the lake incident (she had decided to strike that event from her memory for the time being), their private talks had been half way decent, if she thought about it.

He had made a joke (a slightly cruel one at the expense of others) when she made her big return to Hogwarts. He was probably unaware of it, but the unexpected, funny comment had done a lot to ease her anxiety then. Even the verbal volleyball they had gotten into after had done its job in taking her mind off of the other students and getting her focused on the task.

Then he had given her some solid advice on adapting back to school life, and, she realized, he had _teased_ her back then too, had even laughed in her presence. He had teased/joked with her on other occasions, when he had grabbed her in hall, and while she was taking the test (alright, that had had a heavy amount of mocking in it, but she was counting it anyway).

And he may not have ever done it graciously, but he had allowed her to argue with him. On a couple of occasions he had even explained things to her, with more patience than he had ever shown in the classroom. Most of all, he had saved her life not just once but several times.

So what did this mean? That they were _friends?_ No, she shook that thought from her head. She wouldn't consider them friends yet, but they were something. Almost Acquaintances maybe, with the potential to be friends? That sounded a bit more like it. Now the question was, did she want them to be friends? She wanted to work with him, but did she actually want to go so far as to extend the olive branch of friendship?

He was a very serious man, with a strict manner about him. He could be cruel, and his sarcasm was so sharp it could make you bleed. And if what she heard was correct, then he had once been a true Death Eater and not just a spy. BUT...he could be funny sometimes, and thoughtful in his own way (it was a very special brand of barely-there thoughtful), he was also extremely intelligent, a true scholar (she had seen the books in his office), he was honorable, and he was _brave. _Above all, she wouldn't deny that the man was incredibly brave.

These were mostly surface observations, of course. She didn't really know the man, but did she want to?

The answer was surprisingly a resounding yes.

_Huh, go figure. _Guess that answered that. She would try to form a friendship with him. Not just because she wanted his help, but because she actually wanted to be considered his friend.

"What do you _doing _here_, _Granger?!"

His question snapped her out of her head, and she turned towards him, startled. Oh, right, she had been having a conversation with him. Great, not even ten seconds into her decisions to make friends and she was already ignoring him.

"I was in the kitchen when I heard a noise and came to investigate," she replied. "I saw it was just you and wanted to know if you were alright."

"I do not need your _concern,_" he sneered.

"I know, but I can't help what I worry about," she said defensively.

Snape huffed, looking away. "Don't you have something else to do beside irritate me?"

"Not really." She smirked at his scowl. "I was sitting with Harry before I got up to stretch."

"Stop talking," he groaned, rubbing at his temples.

She did as he asked, letting a comfortable silence settle between them. His eye peaked open again.

"Why are you still here?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, I guess I'm just distracting myself from thinking about today."

"Can you not do that with your little _friends_?"

"They're currently asleep, so no."

"Then talk to the wall," he hissed, and grabbed at his head.

"Do you have a headache? I can get something for you."

"I don't want to eat anymore of your damn broccoli, Granger," he groused, tilting his head back.

She blushed, she was still embarrassed that she had sent him that. It had been so audacious of her, but well, she had been so thankful for his advice and for getting her out of the book, that she had wanted to do something for him in return.

Then his words caught her attention. "You actually ate it?" she asked, dumbfounded. She was sure he would have thrown it in the trash the minute he saw it.

"The House Elves would have felt slighted and I didn't want to be served gruel for breakfast again," he grumbled.

_Ah, so it was for the House Elves. Makes sense, I guess._ Even still, she couldn't stop the small smile on her lips.

A thought occurred to her, that this was the perfect opportunity to ask for his help. Right now he was less grouchy, more open, and the friendliest she had ever seen him—what better time to ask him for his help?

"Actually, can I ask you a question?"

"I'm not interested."

"At least hear me out," she pleaded.

"No."

"Please? It won't take a minute of your time."

"Fine, you can have your minute."

She smiled at him brightly and he flinched away. "Really?"

He took out a stop watch and clicked it open. "Fifty-six seconds…"

Her jaw dropped. "You're really going to time me?"

"Fifty-three."

"Ok! Ok! I need your help with Fera's research!" she practically shouted at him.

Snape stopped counting, and arched a brow at her.

"I know it seems a little out of the blue, but I've put a lot of thought into this. There's a lot of potion work involved that's quite frankly beyond my level of understanding—don't say it!—and I need a master's input. Not only are you one of the best potions masters in your field—"

"You can skip on the brown nosing, Granger, I don't need it."

"I'm not kissing up, I'm stating a fact. You're currently ranked as one of Britain's best potioneers. Even better, you're already an Order member, so I don't have to bring you up to date on the situation. You already know what I'm doing, you know where the Soul Book is, you've met Fera and she's approved of your participation. You're the best choice in partners."

He eyed her speculatively. "Why would I consider doing this? I have enough on my plate as it is. Why should I add more?"

"The quicker we can complete the stone, the quicker we can bring this war to an end. It's in your best interest to help me get it done," she argued.

He grunted non-commiftedly.

"Besides," she hedged, hoping to appeal to his inner scholar, "don't you want to know more about Fera's research? Her work that can literally change the Wizarding World as we know it? When I asked for your help, I meant as a full partner, with complete access to all of her notes."

Snape turned his head to stare at the wall in thought. After a heavy minute of silence, he finally said, "You despise me and I can barely tolerate you."

"I think we can both work in a professional manner if nothing else, especially with what is at stake. And I don't despise you," she tacked on grumpily. What did he mean he could barely tolerate her?

"Fine. We will run a a trial period of one day—

"Make it two weeks at least. We should allow for enough time to get used to each other's working habits."

"One week," he relented, "and at the end of the week we'll see if we still find the arrangement agreeable. I expect to see all prior research before hand. You will not dangle the proverbial carrot in front of me to garner my compliance."

"Agreed. Are you free tomorrow?"

"In the afternoon. 4 o'clock."

"Good, that gives me enough time to talk to the Headmaster and check up on Harry."

"Fine."

He stalked away without a goodbye, leaving her to stare after him.

She let out pent up breath, sinking into her chair. She had done it. She had actually done it! She was finally closer to her goal, she could practically smell the success around the corner.

She got up, and practically floated to her room upstairs. She needed to look over all of her notes, organize them into something that was half-way coherent. Maybe, she should go back to Hogwarts. There had been a few books that looked useful. Hmm...she also had to go through Fera's journals, figure out which part she wanted to discuss with Snape first. Actually, that was a very good question; where should they start?

"I should make a list..." She murmured, her mind a million miles away already.

* * *

**A/N: As always review please~**


	33. Whiskey and first meetings

**Ok, first off. I have to acknowledge that it has been forever since I have updated, and I'm sorry about that. I just recently got engaged and have become a very busy bee, so unfortunately that means that I can't promise that I can pick up on updates. I'm going to try to pick up the pace a bit and get back on track, but that's all I can do. Just know, that I will NEVER abandon a story (and if you're wondering about Silent Love, the update for that will be tomorrow! XD -see told ya). **

**Thank you, to everyone who has stayed with me so far. Hope you like this new chapter. **

* * *

Chapter 32

Narcissa watched Lucius from the doorway. He was standing by the fireplace of his study, a solitary figure in the dim room. He, or most likely one of the Elves, had drawn the windows closed, blocking out the morning sun. The wall and ceiling sconces had been similarly treated, dimmed so low as to be barely there, and the flames from the fireplace were weak, the orange fingers curling in on themselves as they began to die.

It would seem her husband was in a poor mood.

Her eyes traveled down his body, appreciating his flair for drama, for even now, completely morose and drinking his thoughts away in an aged bottle of whiskey, he was beautiful. With his body angled away from her, yet tilted in just the right way to make the firelight illuminate his physique appealingly, one leg suavely crossed in front of the other. An elbow perched on the marble sill of the fireplace, and a glass hanging elegantly in his other hand. He made quite the picture.

For a second her vision flashed, and she was reminded of their early years together, the first time she had seen him in a temper. The way he had fallen dramatically into his chair, his arm swung artfully over his head, his body sprawled out in the seat, poised like a Baroque painting. She had teased him mercilessly that day. Her peacock, dramatic and stunning even when he was in a foul temper.

So rarely did she see him like that now. Azkaban had changed many things. More and more she saw him play the part of a wounded animal, curled in on itself for protection, constantly looking over it's shoulder for a threat. The weak prey rather than her cunning predator. It broke her heart to see it, but perhaps…perhaps the transformation wasn't yet complete.

Was it hope? A possibility was there, but only one. If she didn't handle this correctly, she could lose much more than she was prepared for. She would have to think on it further. For now, she would proceed with caution.

She stepped into the room, letting her heel clink audibly on the floor. The soft tap echoed through the quiet space, and she waited. After a moment, Lucius gave the smallest tilt of his head, granting her access to his domain. She closed the door behind her, and calmly stepped up to his side.

"The hour grows late, my dear. I would have suspected you to be in bed already," he murmured.

She adjusted her robe around herself calmly. "Early, my Lord husband, not late. The sun has already graced me with its presence this morning. And **you** have not."

He smirked at her, a glimpse of the cheeky man he had been. "Then I have been remiss in my husbandly duties, to neglect you so, my lady wife."

"You have indeed." She sniffed delicately, and looked over his rumpled state. "Have you not moved even once from this spot?"

"I have had things on my mind," he whispered, turning back to the fire. The amusement bleeding out of his eyes, and she was met once again with the stranger who had taken over her husband. Her face smoothed over, as she hid her disappointment.

"The Dark Lord wishes to move his operations into the manor."

Narcissa froze, a quiet gasp falling out before she could catch it.

If it were true…It could be both great and terrible. As an opportunist she could see the advantages in such a situation. The Dark Lord would be closer, easier to observe, his plans easier to suss out. In that, she would have an upper hand.

Unfortunately, accessibility often went both ways. What she could glean from his proximity, he could possibly glean from hers. He would have extra eyes on his side as well. Her home, her sanctuary would be filled with his followers, bloodthirsty wolves circling her, their hungry eyes evaluating constantly for weaknesses to expose, or betrayals to unveil. They were desperate enough for his meager praise that they would surrender her secrets at the drop of the hat.

She would never be able to let her guard down, the game, as it were, would be never-ending. The very thought of it was exhausting. Thankfully, there was time yet to come up with a plan _if_ it were true.

She swallowed carefully. "Does he? Bella will be displeased."

"I'm sure she will be," Lucius replied. "He has not made a decision yet. It is entirely possible that he will forget he even mentioned it to me. He was in…aggravated…at the moment."

"Yaxley?"

"The Dark Lord does not approve of failure," he breathed, his eyes glinted with regret. Regret for his own failures, for losing his position, losing favor, and Narcissa thought, regret for choosing this path. And then like a flash of lightening, it was gone again.

"I'm assuming he's still alive."

"He lives, for now. He should be grateful, he faired better than Lestrange."

"How fortunate for him."

"To fail our Lord is to court death. He knew this," he said, snapping the words out defensively. "It could have been worse, much worse."

His hands gripped the marble sill. "It could be worse," he repeated dully, like a mantra.

"Of course," She demurred, "I have no doubt Yaxley is grateful for the mercy."

Lucius slumped forward, his hair falling around his shoulders.

She moved behind him so she could comb out the slightly greasy tresses. He would need to wash it later, and shave as well. The stumble was unsightly.

She whispered a small detangling spell, to ease the movement of her fingers. "Was he the only one?"

His eyes fluttered shut. "Those involved as well. Those who were not…we were dismissed. Unless of course we wished to stay for the 'entertainment'."

Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief. Lucius had been home relatively early last night. Earlier than he would have been if he had decided to _enjoy_ the festivities.

"Was that Severus I heard last night, then?"

"Hmm. We shared a drink."

"And a bottle?"

He gave her a look, deliberately capping the bottle of whiskey by his foot with a wave. She grinned at him.

"Will you be joining me for breakfast or do you wish to retire for the day?"

"I am too restless," he stated. "Allow me to change, and I shall join you in a moment."

"Very well. I'll have Rosey bring the morning paper for you."

"Good, good." He waved his hand dismissively, already leaving for their quarters.

She waited until he was gone, then called out, "Rosey!"

The House Elf popped in next to her, bowing low. "Yes, Mistress?"

"Get me the Morning paper. Bring it to the dining room, as well as a vial of Pepper Up."

"Yes, Mistress!"

Narcissa retied her robe, giving the dreary room, and the half empty whiskey bottle a superior glance before she flitted away.

* * *

The Daily Prophet was calling it the King's Cross Massacre. The front page article, at first glance a promising read that might have, for once, actually given them the real facts, was nothing more than rubbish. How foolish it was for her to have hoped. The Daily Prophet, and Skeeter especially, would sooner gnaw off their own arms before they 'settled' with the truth.

"Foul, loathsome woman," Hermione grumbled, seething over her bowl of oatmeal.

Fred and George shared a grin. "Give it over. We want to see."

"You'll be better off not having read it. Believe me," she griped, even as she handed over the crumbled remains of that morning's issue.

Fred eagerly unwrinkled it, folding it back open for him and his brother to read.

"What'd it say?" Ron asked.

Gripping her spoon, Hermione tried to contain herself. "The entire thing is utter tripe! More time was spent talking about Draco's apprenticeship with Master Ives, than on the actual event. When Skeeter _finally _did talk about the attack, it was only to disparage the Auror Department for not being prompt, and to insinuate that it was all Professor Dumbledore's fault. That what happened was a result of his incompetence as headmaster!"

"And listen to this," George said, running his finger along the bottom of the page. "'There has been speculation that the culprits behind this heinous act were You-Know-Who's followers, but it has been, as of yet, unconfirmed.' As if it could've been anyone else."

"I don't know how she's still allowed to write at all, much less as a reporter," Hermione snarked.

George leaned forward. "You know, they say the Daily Prophet is completely under Voldy's thumb."

"Can't rely on it even a little bit now." Fred shook his head. "We know a bloke who works for them. Loved his job, wouldn't shut up about it. Now? You couldn't pry anything from him with a crowbar."

"We still have Luna and her father," Hermione reminded them. "At least they're getting the truth out."

In the hallway they could hear the sound of a door opening, raised voices, and then a door closing again. The Headmaster, Mad-Eye, Kinglsey and McGonagall had been in the second floor library all morning, most likely discussing yesterday's events. The 'King's Cross Massacre' had put them all one step behind, and the Order was scrambling now to regain their footing.

The four shared a look of equal curiosity.

"How long do you think they'll be in there?" she asked.

George shrugged. "Dunno. Might hole up in there 'til the war's done."

"I wonder what they're talking about," Ron murmured.

"What are you, daft? They're talking about yesterday's cluster fuck!" Fred said, scrunching his nose up at his brother. "What else would they be talking about?"

Ron blushed, glaring at the twin. "I know that! I meant, what _about_ yesterday? They have to be coming up with a plan. Some way to get back at You-Know-Who."

"Yeah, maybe," Fred agreed. "But they won't tell us."

"Not yet," George said. "They'll wait until the meeting to tell us. Then we'll get our assignments and what not."

"Assignments?" Hermione asked, interest piqued.

"'Course. We all get assignments, either at the meetings or afterwards. Got to know what we're doing."

"What're they gonna to ask us to do?" Ron jumped in, the heady excitement of heroism and glory evident in his tone.

The twins as one, shook their heads in mock commiseration.

"Oh Ronnekins."

"Dear, baby brother."

"Mum would kill us all if you got involved."

"She would never allow it."

Ron bristled. "But I'm legal now! I should be able to join!"

"Yeah but you're still in school."

"Still a student."

"Still not graduated."

"So? You guys didn't graduate either," Ron argued. "And you still got to join."

The twins smiled.

"But we're adults. Respectable businessy-type adults."

"Paying bills, and our taxes and all that."

"We can pledge to whatever we want."

Hermione finally stepped in, her head beginning to pound from the back and forth. "Alright, knock it off. There's too much going on right now to be fighting like this."

"Easy for you to say, you get to go to the meetings," Ron grumbled, sinking into his chair.

Hermione felt a spark of pity for her friend. Not too long ago, she had been right beside him, bemoaning the injustice of not being included even after they had more than earned their stripes. Now she was on the other side. No longer looking through the window, feeling frustrated and underestimated.

She caught the twins' eyes, motioning her head to their brother, her eyes pleading for them to help.

George sighed. "Just so you know, they've been talking about swearing you guys in."

Ron perked up. "Really?"

"They're still talking about it."

"And Mum's been throwin' a fit!"

"But we wouldn't be surprised if you were attending meetings before school starts up again," Fred finished.

Ron glanced over at Hermione. "Is that true?"

"I wouldn't know," she told him the truth. His guess really was as good as hers. "I've only gone to one meeting so far. I don't really know what the Order has planned."

Her general lack of knowledge seemed to appease him, deflating his anger like a sputtering balloon.

"Good," he muttered down into his plate with an odd smile. "Good."

"Um, good," she repeated. Then not sure what else to say to him, she got up from the table. "I'll just…go check on Tonks then."

"Sure thing," Ron responded. "I'll let you know if Harry wakes up again."

"Sure, thanks," she offered awkwardly, as she shuffled out the door. With any luck Tonks would pick up her mood.

* * *

Luck, it turned out, was on her side, and her mood improved immeasurably after she left the Auror's company. Hermione ending up spending most of the day with Tonks, who was recovering at a satisfying pace, according to Madame Pomfrey. the time was spent quietly, due to the heavy doses of potions Tonks was still under. Little conversation could be had when half of the party was constantly falling asleep mid-sentence. But Hermione didn't mind. She had brought a book with her, to read aloud, and Remus had also shown up halfway through chapter nine as well. So when Tonks finally fell asleep for good, the two ended up chatting quietly together.

He had given her some fairly good advice when she told him about working with Snape. As someone who had worked professionally with Snape at Hogwarts for a year and with the Order for several years, she valued the tips he gave her. The main point in being; patience and confidence.

"Patience and confidence," she repeated to herself, as she headed down to the house's potions lab. The much needed words alleviated her nerves, giving her whirling mind a task to latch onto. It was a simple enough to achieve, showing patience and confidence. Dealing with Ron and Harry every day made sure she had those two traits in abundance. So this should be easy right? A cakewalk!

With a pep in her step, she entered the potions lab, only to find the dark room sans Potions Master. Her good mood popped like a bubble. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and too late she realized that she hadn't specified where they should meet the night before. Snape had only agreed to two things; to start today, and to meet at 4 in the afternoon. She nor he had clarified where that meeting was to take place.

The blame laid mostly on her shoulders. It had been her idea to do this, ergo it was her responsibility to take care of the details, and ultimately her fault in not conveying them. How could she have allowed one moment of euphoria to cloud her usually impeccable organizational skills?

She slapped her forehead and groaned. She felt like such an amateur, not at all the 'professional' Remus had talked about. What if Snape went somewhere else? What if he showed up at the wrong place and took _her_ absence as a sign that she wasn't sincere in her request for help? Or decide that she had just been pulling his leg?

_Oh God! _He would probably never speak to her again, let alone give her time to explain and apologize.

She should probably try and send a message now—no wait, that would be presumptuous. There was no reason to jump the gun like that. She would just wait for a little while. Actually give him time to arrive, before she raced off after him. And **then** if he didn't show up, she might try to send a Floo call, a patronus…or something, and let him know where she was.

_Okay, right. Good plan._

She settled down on the only available seating in the room, a small, two person brown couch with green pinstripes, and dropped her bag to the floor by her feet. Her research folder was already out and ready, clutched to her chest for dear life.

In the stretched out, manila folder was everything she had so far. Her notes, her commentary on _Fera's_ notes, her hypotheses and possible project designs, all scribbled out in her cramped, bubbled writing. Then, obviously, there was Fera's journal. The burden of it pressing down into her hands, even as it was tucked away between packets of paper and out of sight.

She had stayed up most of last night, going through everything she had written, then rearranging the folder so when Snape opened it, it would flow in the most understandable and logical sequence. It might have been overkill, but she had needed busy work last night to calm her thoughts.

Carefully, she placed the folder down beside her. Almost compulsively, she straightened it out so it was parallel to the edge of the seat cushion, then chided herself for displaying such unnecessarily manic behavior.

So what if Snape still hadn't arrived yet? It was only—_4:01, _it would be perfectly natural for him to show up a little late. There was no reason to be worried. Not everyone lived by the tick of a clock like her.

She rummaged through her bag, pulling out a book on Goblin History. She leafed through the pages until she came upon her bookmark and dropped back into the couch. On pure will alone, she forced her eyes to run across the page, and read the words before her.

Her traitorous eyes drifted down towards her wrist.

_4:05. _

_ Dammit all!_

"Miss Granger."

She yelped, dropping her book to the ground. Snape stood before her, as silent as his entrance had been. The right corner of his mouth twitched.

"Professor," she greeted, catching her breath, "I'm glad you could make it."

He narrowed his eyes at her, as if dissecting her words. The moment stretched between them before he nodded, finding her greeting acceptable. "You have your notes?"

Hermione gestured to the folder in her arms. "Of course."

He held out his hand, waiting expectantly.

"Oh! Um, here…"

He took the folder from her, ignoring her offer to take the empty seat on the sofa, and conjured a stool that he pulled up to the lab table instead. He opened the folder, spanning the contents out in front of him for his perusal, and turned his back on her. His robes swished with the movement, creating an impenetrable shield against any further scrutiny.

She had been effectively dismissed.

Well, this is going swimmingly, she thought with a sigh. She dithered for a minute, wondering what she should do with herself. Should she stay or go, leave him time to go through it all, and then come back later? Or wait it out here? Ultimately, deciding against that (they only had a week to work together after all), she awkwardly shuffled back to the couch, and picking up her book, she continued to read.

Time passed steadily, the only sounds in the room being that of breathing and pages being turned. At first Hermione had tried to relax, to enjoy the insightful text in her lap and the semi-cosy couch at her back. But getting comfortable in her environment proved to be futile. No matter how much she tried to get lost in the book, she just couldn't sink into the pages. Her mind refused to submerge into the scribed words. It was too aware that she wasn't alone, that someone else was in the room, and that that someone happened to be Snape.

Too often she found her eyes listing towards him. Studying him as he hunched over the table, one elbow propped up to hold his head. What he was reading was a mystery. He made no obvious moves, aside from a small adjustment to his seat (that was over two hours ago), neither did he make any discernible sounds. No scoffs of disgusts or hums of pleasure. And with his back facing her, she couldn't see his face to gauge his expressions either. Though, with how he was, she was sure his face was as steeped in neutrality as the rest of him. Darn the man.

The curiosity was killing her.

She shifted in her spot, leaning on the armrest, as she attempted to get a glimpse past his excessive robes.

"If you gave your book half the attention you are giving my back you would have finished it three times over by now," his voiced snapped out into the quiet startling her. He glared over his shoulder, and Hermione blushed, quickly looking back down at her History book.

She cleared her throat, idly turning the page.

He grumbled tersely, the words too low for her ears. He snapped the book in his hands shut, the severe lines of his mouth pulling down in a frown.

She peeked at him. Waited a second before eventually asking, "So…What are your thoughts so far?"

"That your prospectus is lethal," he growled.

She started. Of all the things to say he chose that? "I'm sorry?"

He snorted, turning around on his stool (and how he made even that movement imposing she didn't know). He held up a black spiral notebook. Her research journal.

"If we follow your intended plan, we'll be nothing but smoking dust before the day is out. Either you are astoundingly suicidal or you have reached a previously unknown level of vacuousness."

She stiffened, straightening her spine. "I beg your pardon?"

"Case in point."

"Now wait a minute!" she said defensively, valiantly trying to hold her temper in check (at least one of them had to if they were going to survive the week). "That is completely uncalled for. There is **nothing** wrong with my research plan."

"In that idealistic and gullible brain of yours, I'm sure there isn't," he sneered.

Okay, maybe surviving the week had been a pipe dream.

"And why do you say that?" She inquired with forced patience.

"You've suggested that we begin by recreating the original experiment," he said, in flabbergasted disgust.

That's what he was upset about? "It's the logical choice," Hermione replied. "How else would we verify Fera's findings for a base comparison?"

"I do not know how far you plan on getting with such a school-girl mindset." His voice was soaked in derision. "This is not a silly Charms project we would be observing. We'd be creating an uncontrollable, magic-leaching, murdering, alchemy stone!"

Hermione held up a hand. "Alright, I can see your concerns, but there are containment spells we could use. Fera has pointed out numerous ones in her journal."

"Oh I saw the Spells. Feeble little incantations that would be as useful as a bandaid on a knife wound."

"Several of those 'feeble' spells worked for Fera, already."

"If we are to believe her."

"We can!"

"And even if they do work, we'd still be left with a killing machine on our hands."

"We would destroy it after!"

"And what if it were stolen before then? Lost? And somehow brought back to the Dark Lord?"

"I—"

"We might as well truss ourselves up on a silver platter for him now," he spat out.

Hermione faltered, not sure what to say to that. Like a shark smelling blood, Snape descended on her. He snatched Fera's journal off the table, shaking it in her face.

"Do you understand what this is?! What you are trying to create? If we don't kill ourselves first, we'll kill everyone else!" He growled. "This journal is impossible!"

"I admit it is difficult in some parts…"

"It's filled with nothing but inconstancies and lucky guesses, masquerading under the guise of well-conceptualized theories. When you brought this plan before the Order you led us to believe that the stone was already halfway to completion, that what you were trying to build wasn't nearly as disastrously volatile as this!"

"I said it was a work in progress," she corrected him. "And I did explain that the stone was dangerous in its natural form, that's why its my job to fix it. It will just take patience is all."

"There is no fixing this. You would have to start from scratch," Snape said.

"It wouldn't be totally from scratch, we'd have Fera's work to compare."

"Clearly Miss Rosier's insanity is contagious."

Well, now that was just rude! Hermione could take a lot of his insults but she wouldn't stand for his disparaging Fera's character. Not after everything she had done for her.

She straightened up. "Fera is a perfectly lovely woman! She may have some flaws—

He made a noise in the back of his throat and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Just as you have yours," she bit out, then continued when he opened his mouth to say something else, **"but** she has a good idea. The potential is there." She was pleading now, earnestly trying to get him to just see the opportunity they had in front of them.

"If we fix this stone, we can end the war. All the violence, the death, the fear will be over. Isn't that worth a shot?"

Snape was silent, his head turned away, and his shoulders heaving with each deep breath he dragged in. But she could tell; he was thinking about it. She could see it in his eyes, how they darted back and forth with his thoughts, how his brows furrowed, and the way his mouth moved, the words silent, but weighty all the same.

Finally he looked up at her, and she could see that something had solidified. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then pointed his finger at her in a threatening manner.

"This project is useless in it's present state. Your mentor's notes are a jumbled mess of disjointed thoughts and questionable lucidity," he declared.

"You just need to find the pattern," she insisted.

"I refuse to allow any recreations of the stone," he continued, ignoring her. "The risks far outweigh the rewards, and I will not get myself killed by your insipid optimism."

Hermione held her tongue. There were bigger dragons to slay right now. "Fine. But there are some very promising potions and spells Fera created that we should keep in mind."

Grunting, Snape paced away from her, running a hand through his hair before he turned back around. "You honestly believe this asinine, hair-brained scheme will work?"

"It will." She put all of her faith in those two words, willing him to feel her conviction.

Snape stared her down with those steely black eyes, as if weighing her soul for judgement. She stared back, unable and unwilling to be the first to break. She had laid all her cards on the table. It was up to him to accept or reject them now.

He looked away, releasing her from the spell. When he spoke it was in a soft, lethal whisper. "We shall see."

"We? Does that mean…?"

"Yes." Snape stepped back. "My answer is yes. I will take the folder and finish reading through what I can tonight," he said to a stunned Hermione. He gathered up the folder and its contents in question, tucking it under his arm.

"As I said before, I am a busy man, and will be even busier once the semester starts."

_Wait, did he say semester? As in we'd be working longer than this week?_

"So we shall schedule our meetings for when I have free time," he continued, "I expect you to be accommodating in this matter, as your time is far less valuable and far more flexible than my own. If for any reason you cannot meet me at a predetermined time, I expect you to contact me at least four hours before. And." Here he paused. "I would advise you cancel for emergencies only. I will not be made to wait just so you can go frolic with your friends. Do you understand?"

Hermione clamped her mouth shut, realizing she had been staring at him like a gaping fish. "I—yes! That sounds fine," she replied.

He headed to the door.

"Um, wait!" she called out, "I…thank you for this."

"Do not thank me yet, Granger. We don't know if this will actually work."

"It has to," she stated.

He eyed her silently, nodded and left.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think~**


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